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BV  30  .K4  1910 

Kelman,  John,  1864-1929 

Ephemera  eternitatas 


EPHEMERA  ETERNITATIS 


THE  FIFTY-TWO    SERIES   OF   BOOKS  FOR 
CHRISTIAN   WORKERS. 


SUNDAY  EVENING:  Fifty-two  Short 
Sermons  for  Home  Reading.  By  the  Rev. 
Sir  W.  Robertson  Nicoll,  M.A.,  LL.D. 
Uniform  with  this  Vol.     Price  55.  net. 


ABERDEEN  I    THE    UNIVERSITY    PRESS 


EPHEMERA    ETERNITATIS 


A  BOOK  OF  SHORT  STUDIES  IN  LIFE 
HERE  AND  HEREAFTER,  ARRANGED  FOR 
THE  SUNDAYS  OF  THE  CHRISTIAN  YEAR 


BY    THE    REV. 


JOHN   KELMAN,   D.D. 

AUTHOR   OF   "courts   OF  THE  TEMPLE,"   "  FAITH   OF   R,   L.   STEVENSON,"    ETC, 


HODDER     AND    STOUGHTON 

ST.   PAUL'S  HOUSE,  WARWICK  SQUARE 
LONDON,   E.G.       MCMX 


TO  MY  WIFE 


PEEFACE 

The  title,  Ephemera  Eternitatis,  has  many  disad- 
vantages ;  but  it  is  the  best  expression  of  the  idea 
of  the  book  which  I  could  find.  An  old  author, 
speaking  of  the  journey  of  life,  has  quaintly  de- 
scribed Sundays  as  the  inns  where  the  traveller 
rests  for  a  little  while  and  collects  his  thoughts, 
both  of  the  road  he  has  travelled  and  of  the  destina- 
tion whither  it  is  leading  him.  Such  is  the  intention 
of  these  studies.  They  are  not  sermons,  but  frag- 
ments or  abstracts  of  sermons.  They  are  fugitive 
glimpses  of  eternal  things. 

While  in  a  general  way  it  has  been  found  con- 
venient to  arrange  them  in  the  time-honoured 
sequence  of  the  Christian  year,  only  a  few  of  the 
more  important  festivals,  celebrated  either  on  Sun- 
days or  on  adjacent  weekdays,  have  been  selected. 
I  have  included  the  discarded  festival  of  All  Souls  ; 
for,  although  it  has  been  abused  by  superstition,  it 
may  well  be  aJlowed  to  remind  us  of  our  human 


viii  PEEFACE 

brotherhood  and  of  the  claim  of  God  upon  all  man- 
kind. The  first  and  last  Sundays  of  the  year  are 
the  only  commemorative  days  which  have  been 
added  to  those  of  the  Church  Calendar. 

Since  the  object  of  the  book  is  practical  rather 
than  critical,  questions  of  authorship  and  of  literal 
or  figurative  interpretation  have  been  rarely  intro- 
duced. In  so  far  as  disputed  doctrines  are  dealt 
with,  my  desire  is  to  sound  a  reconciling  rather  than 
a  contentious  note.  Far  too  much  has  been  made 
of  our  differences  in  matters  where  all  theories  are 
necessarily  incomplete.  The  statement  of  truths  of 
eternity  in  the  language  of  time  must  always  leave 
great  room  for  Christian  charity  towards  those  who 
state  the  same  truths  otherwise,  and  the  restate- 
ment of  ancient  doctrines  in  modern  terms  implies  no 
lack  of  reverence  either  for  former  thinkers  or  their 
thoughts.  It  does  imply  a  profound  and  deepening 
conviction  that  the  earlier  and  the  later  voices  are 
but  different  expressions  of  the  same  things.  The 
chief  characteristic  of  the  thought  of  to-day  is  that 
it  finds  its  way  to  abstract  truth  through  actual 
experience.  In  the  history  of  the  race  and  of  the 
individual  there  is  clear  evidence  of  the  way  of  God 
with  men.  It  is  in  these  phenomena  of  time  that 
we  see  passing  glimpses  of  eternity. 

JOHN  KELMAN. 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

On  the  Obseevanoe  of  Days      ...         ...         ...         ...        1 

"  I  was  in  the  Spirit  on  the  Lord's  Day." — Revelation  i.  10. 


CONOEENING   GiFTS 8 

The  gifts  of  the  Magi. — St.  Matthew  ii.  11. 

The  Conseceation  of  Impeeialism         ...         ...         ...       14 

"  He  leadeth  them  out." — St.  John  x.  3. 

Leadeeship,  False  and  Teue      ...         ...       21 

"  He  leadeth  them  out." — St.  John  x.  3. 

The  Making  of  an  Apostle        27 

St.  Paul  the  Apostle. — Acts  ix.  1-9. 

Thought  and  Action  34 

St.  Paul's  retrospect. — Acts  xxvi.  19. 
ix 


X  CONTENTS 

PAGB 

Loyalty  to  Vision 39 

St.  Paul's  retrospect. — Acts  xxvi.  19. 

Christ's  Lessons  in  Prayer        44 

•'  Lord,  teach  us  to  pray."  — Luke  ii.  1. 

Preparation  for  the  Best  ...         ...         ...         ...       49 

"A  people  prepared  for  the  Lord." — Luke  i.  17. 

The  Preparation  of  Words         55 

•'  Take  with  you  words." — Hosea  xiv.  2. 

The  Power  of  Words       61 

"  Take  with  you  words." — Hosea  xiv.  2. 

East  and  West       67 

•'  As  far  as  the  east  is  from  the  west,  so  far  hath  He  removed 
our  transgressions  from  us." — Psalm  ciii.  12. 

Christ  among  the  Transgressors  75 

"  He  was  numbered  with  the  transgressors."— Isaiah  liii.  12 ; 
Luke  xxii.  37. 


CONTENTS  xi 

PAGE 

The  Value  op  a  Pageant  84 

The  triumphal  entry  into  Jerusalem. — Luke  xix.  28-48. 


The  Bising  of  Christ         ...         ...         ...     90 

"  They  have  taken  away  my  Lord,  and  I  know  not  where  they 
have  laid  Him." — St.  John  xx.  13. 


A  Song  op  the  Morning 97 

"  And  he  shall  be  as  the  light  of  the  morning,  when  the  sun 
riseth,  even  a  morning  without  clouds." — 2  Samuel  xxiii.  4. 


The  More  Excellent  Way  104 

"  That  ye  may  approve  things  that  are  excellent." — Philippians 
i.  10. 


Strength  and  Joy 113 

"  The  joy  of  the  Lord  is  your  strength." — Nehemiah  viii.  10. 

The  Elusiveness  op  Desire        119 

"  The  mirage  shall  become  a  pool." — Isaiah  xxxv.  7. 

The  Phantasmagoria  op  Life      ...         ...         125 

"  The  mirage  shall  become  a  pool." — Isaiah  xxxv.  7. 


xii  CONTENTS 

PAQB 

A  New  Point  of  View      131 

«  While  they  beheld,  He  was  taken  up ;  and  a  cloud  received 
Him  out  of  their  sight."— Acts  i.  9. 


The  Days  of  the  Spieit ...     138 

"  It  is  expedient  for  you  that  I  go  away." — St.  John  xvi.  7. 

The  Spiritual  Doctrine  op  God  144 

'•  For  there  are  three  that  bear  record  in  heaven,  the  Father, 
the  Word,  and  the  Holy  Ghost :  and  these  three  are  one." 
— 1  John  v.  7. 

The  Spirit  and  the  Intellect 150 

"  He  will  guide  you  into  all  truth."— St.  John  xvi.  13. 

The  Spirit  and  the  Conscience 155 

*'  He  will  convict  the  world  of  sin,  and  of  righteousness,  and  of 
judgment." — Sx.  John  xvii.  8-11. 

The  Unknown  Christ        160 

"  There  standeth  one  among  you  whom  ye  know  not." — St. 
John  i.  26. 

The  Unknown  Neighbour  167 

"  There  standeth  one  among  you  whom  ye  know  not." — St. 
John  i.  26. 


CONTENTS  xiii 

PAGE 

The  Unknown  Self  174 

"  There  standeth  one  among  you  whom  ye  know  not." — St. 
John  i.  26. 


Duty  and  Pleasube  181 

"  Are  not  Abana  and  Pharpar,  rivers  of  Damascus,  better  than 
all  the  waters  of  Israel." — 2  Kings  v.  12. 


Opinion  and  Knowledge 189 

"  Behold  I  thought    .     .     .    behold  now  I  know." — 2  Kings 
V.  11,  15. 


The  Character  op  Gehazi  198 

2  Kings  v.  15-27. 

God's  Compromise  with  Man      207 

"  Two  mules'  burden  of  earth." — 2  Kings  v.  17. 

Man's  Compromise  with  God       ...         214 

"  The  house  of  Rimmon." — 2  Kings  v.  18. 

The  Open-air  Treatment  op  Souls       223 

"I  will  lift  up  mine  eyes  unto  the  hills." — Psalm  oxxi.  1. 


xiv  CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Three  Views  of  Man's  Destiny. — 1.  Pessimism        ...     230 

'•  I  wept  much,  because  no  man  was  found  worthy  to  open  and 
to  read  the  book." — Revelation  v.  4. 


Three  Views  op  Man's  Destiny. — 2.  The  Gospel  of 

Healthy-mindedness ...     236 

♦*  Weep  not :  behold,  the  Lion  of  the  tribe  of  Juda  .  .  .  hath 
prevailed  to  open  the  book." — Revelation  v.  5. 


Three  Views  of  Man's  Destiny. — 3.  Love  and  Sacri- 
fice          242 

'•  A  Lamb  as  it  had  been  slain." — Revelation  v.  6. 

Well-meaning  Blunderers         248 

"  Blessed  is  he  that  shall  eat  bread  in  the  kingdom  of  God." — 
Luke  xiv.  15. 

•'  Blessed  is  the  womb  which  bear  Thee  and  the  paps  which 
Thou  hast  sucked." — Luke  xi.  27. 

Interpretation  by  the  Long  Result 254 

'•  What  I  do  thou  knowest  not  now,  but  thou  shalt  know  here- 
after."— St.  John  xiii.  7. 

Trust  in  the  Character  of  Christ      260 

"  What  I  do  thou  knowest  not  now,  but  thou  shalt  know  here- 
after."— St.  John  xiii.  7. 


CONTENTS  XV 

PAGE 

The  Exploration  op  the  Hidden  Life  266 

"  Your  life  is  hid  with  Christ  in  God." — Colossians  iii.  3. 
*'  Continue  in  prayer." — Colossians  iv.  2. 


Weariness  of  Responsibility      ...         ...     275 

•*  Make  me  as  one  of  thy  hired  servants." — Luke  xv.  19. 

The  Heritage  of  Fear     282 

'« Thou  hast  given  me  the  heritage  of  those  that  fear  Thy 
name." — Psalm  Ixi.  5. 

The  Claim  of  God 288 

"  All  souls  are  mine." — Ezekiel  xviii.  5. 

The  Religion  of  Humanity         295 

'*  Jesus  went  forth,  and  saw  a  great  multitude,  and  was  moved 
with  compassion  toward  them." — St.  Matthew  xiv.  14. 

The  Further  Side  of  Victory  ...         301 

'•  More  than  conquerors."—  Romans  viii.  37. 

The  Transformation  of  Language  into  Life 306 

"  The  word  was  made  flesh." — St,  John  i.  14. 


xvi  CONTENTS 

PAGE 

The  Eeasonable  View  of  Sin  and  of  Foegiveness  ...     313 

"  Come  now,  and  let  us  reason  together,  saith  the  Lord ; 
though  your  sins  be  as  scarlet,  they  shall  be  as  white  as 
snow ;  though  they  be  red  like  crimson,  they  shall  be  as 
wool." — Isaiah  i.  18. 


The  Divine  Love  Incarnate        319 

"  The  love  of  God  which  is  in  Christ  Jesus." — Eomans  viii.  39. 

The  Second  Advent  325 

"  Like  unto  men  that  wait  for  their  lord." — Luke  xii.  36. 

The  Groups  around  the  Cradle  332 

«  The  eyes  of  all  wait  upon  Thee."— Psalm  oxly.  15. 

The  End  of  the  Year      336 

« It  is  finished."— John  xix.  30. 


ON  THE  OBSERVANCE  OF  DAYS 

{The  New  Year) 

"  I  was  in  the  Spirit  on  the  Lord's  Day." — Eevelation  i.  10. 

The  wonderful  book  of  the  Revelation  introduces 
us  suddenly  to  a  most  picturesque  and  most  pathetic 
situation.  It  is  Sunday  in  Patmos,  where  John  is 
an  exile  condemned  to  work  in  the  mines.  Sunday 
was  a  great  day  with  those  early  Christians — the 
Lord's  Day,  the  Christian  festival  of  the  Resurrec- 
tion. For  that  brilliant  fact  shone  behind  them  but 
a  little  distance  off,  and  once  a  week  they  laid  aside 
all  other  thoughts,  and  lived  over  again  in  loving 
imagination  the  events  that  had  changed  the  world 
for  them. 

Sunday  was  not  a  holiday  in  the  mines,  but  the 
spirit  of  this  redeemed  man  is  free,  and  he  has 
access  to  the  spiritual  world.  While  his  feet  and 
hands  toil  at  their  dreary  tasks,  he  passes  into 
an  ecstatic  state,  suspending  his  connexion  with 
this  material  world,  and  leading  him  into  the  other 

land,  unseen  of  any  eyes  but  his. 

1 


2  ON  THE  OBSEEVANCE  OF  DAYS 

In  this  exalted  state  the  boundaries  both  of  time 
and  space  are  thrown  down,  and  he  moves  free 
in  a  larger  world.  He  is  back  again  in  the  morn- 
ing light  of  the  day  of  Christ's  rising.  Again  he 
runs  to  the  empty  tomb  with  Peter  ;  again  the 
woman  whom  they  have  left  solitary  by  that  empty 
tomb  comes  and  tells  them  what  she  has  seen  ;  and 
again  amid  the  evening  shadows  he  himself  hears 
the  words  "Peace  be  unto  you".  Similarly  he 
escapes  from  the  narrow  confines  of  the  island,  and 
shares  the  life  of  the  infant  Church  scattered  along 
the  coast-lines  of  the  Great  Sea.  He  is  their  brother 
and  companion,  both  in  the  tribulation  and  in  the 
kingdom  of  Jesus  Christ ;  with  them  both  in  dark- 
ness and  in  glory.  He  is  with  them,  too,  in  that 
patience  of  the  saints  which  both  the  tribulation  and 
the  kingdom  has  taught  them  —  that  wonderful 
patience  of  the  early  Church,  which  had  learned  to 
be  patient  with  life,  both  in  its  present  trial  and  its 
deferred  hope. 

Such  was  the  spirit  of  the  day  for  John — partly 
commemoration  of  the  past,  partly  fellowship  with 
the  far  distant,  in  the  brotherhood  of  the  patient 
Church.  It  was  a  day  of  mingled  sorrow  and  exulta- 
tion, in  every  sense  a  very  special  day. 

We  still  keep  certain  days  apart,  and  break  the 
monotony  of  the  year  with  their  recurring  calls  to 
remember  and  to  love.  There  is  sometimes  heard 
a  grudge  against  making  much  of  one  day  above 


ON  THE  OBSEEVANCE  OF  DAYS  3 

another,  but  surely  that  is  but  a  frowsy  way  of 
thinking.  Those  who  cherish  it  must  be  people 
whose  commonplace  life  of  detail  has  overwhelmed 
them  and  made  them  dull,  till  they  feel  at  home 
only  in  routine,  and  are  restless  and  ill  at  ease 
when  life  grows  keener.  The  loss  of  the  power 
to  take  holiday  is  one  of  the  results  of  the  over- 
pressure nowadays.  But  even  for  the  work's  own 
sake  we  need  sometimes  to  stand  ofiP  from  work, 
especially  in  our  religious  life.  The  finest  and 
most  sensitive  instincts  tend  to  die  away  or  to  get 
crowded  out,  even  amid  religious  services  and 
duties.  Indeed  it  even  comes  to  this  that  we 
positively  fear  any  special  inspirations.  A  sloth 
creeps  upon  us,  and  rather  than  risk  a  spiritual 
awakening  we  willingly  consent  to  weary  ourselves 
with  unremitting  labours,  or  succumb  to  the  fascina- 
tion of  the  unimportant,  and  indulge  ourselves  in 
a  succession  of  casual  little  activities.  We  de- 
liberately prefer  and  choose  Martha's  part  instead 
of  Mary's,  and  fill  life  so  full  of  bustling  services 
that  we  have  no  time  either  to  think  or  to  aspire. 

There  are  others  who  in  a  different  spirit  ask : 
''  Why  select  one  day  above  another?  Are  not  all 
days  equally  days  of  the  Lord?  Eather  let  us 
raise  the  tone  of  every  day  till  it  reaches  festival 
height."  This  looks  indeed  like  religion,  but  it  is 
not  human  nature.  Those  who  are  always  at  high 
pressure  grow  inevitably  strained  and  unnatural.    It 


4  ON  THE  OBSEEVANCE  OF  DAYS 

is  quite  true  that  every  day  is  a  day  of  the  Lord, 
for  every  day  is  "  full  of  things  offering  themselves 
for  our  wonder,  and  understanding,  and  love,  and 
every  person  we  meet  is  a  traveller  between  life 
and  death".  So  all  the  interests  of  life  are  re- 
ligious ;  but  we  are  human,  and  none  of  us  is  cap- 
able of  bearing  more  than  a  certain  strain.  Such 
attempts  overstrain  life  to  a  tension  that  is  neither 
desirable  nor  wholesome. 

In  a  word,  the  spirit  is  tidal,  and  ''the  soul  wins 
its  victories  as  the  sea  wins  hers  ".  The  occasional 
and  fluctuating  element  in  life  is  not  only  justifiable 
but  essential  to  healthy  human  nature.  The  tides 
of  the  spirit  are  known  to  us  all — the  great  re- 
actions, the  swinging  tides  of  feeling,  interest,  and 
energy.  These  are  from  above,  coming  down  upon 
us,  unlike  the  pedestrian  guides  of  common  sense 
and  principle  which  direct  us  evenly  on  our  way. 
This  does  not  apply  merely  to  the  ebb  and  flow  of 
sweet  or  tender  feeling,  though  it  includes  that 
also.  Rather  one  thinks  of  the  occasional  height- 
ening of  life  all  round,  the  intensification  of  its 
powers  in  moments  when  it  "  means  intensely,  and 
means  good." 

For  the  continuance  of  such  exalted  moods,  there 
are  no  tabernacles  allowed  on  the  mountain-top. 
Life  moves  best  in  reactions,  and  the  occasional 
element  is  necessary  to  its  wholesomeness.  Very 
particularly  does  this  hold  true  of  religious  experi- 


ON  THE  OBSEEVANCE  OF  DAYS  5 

ence,  and  it  warns  us  against  a  false  conscience  of 
spirituality.  Self-analysis  and  frequent  measure- 
ment of  the  spiritual  temperature  may  easily  be- 
come morbid.  Do  not  strain  your  spirit  nor  force 
your  moods,  nor  accuse  yourself  because  of  the  ebb 
and  flow.  All  that  is  included  in  the  command  and 
trust  that  we  shall  live  our  human  lives. 

Now  this  occasional  quality  of  human  nature  is 
the  explanation  of  the  common  delight  in  the 
observance  of  special  days.  Birthdays  and  other 
anniversaries,  the  return  of  friends  from  afar,  the 
festivals  commemorating  national  and  religious 
events,  are  all  of  them  times  of  spiritual  rising  tide. 
It  is  fitting  to  give  them  their  opportunity,  to  set 
time  apart,  and  to  forbid  encroaching  duties. 

We  have  here  a  principle  which  gives  its  true 
meaning  to  the  observance  of  Sunday.  Unfortun- 
ately the  whole  question  has  come  to  be  associated 
either  with  laws  and  forcible  restraints,  or  with  the 
mere  idea  of  rest,  and  the  cessation  of  the  daily 
routine.  Both  of  these  are  negative  conceptions  of 
the  day,  relating  to  what  we  must  not  do  on  it. 
Really  such  restrictions  exist  not  for  their  own  sake, 
but  in  order  to  make  room  for  the  positive  Sunday 
life.  That  life  consists  of  much  that  is  keenest  and 
most  worthy  in  human  nature — the  fellowship  of 
friends,  thoughts  of  the  absent,  memories  of  the 
dead,  aspirations  after  better  life,  communion  with 
God.     For  the  sake  of  these  things  of  the  Spirit  it 


6  ON  THE  OBSEKVANCE  OF  DAYS 

is  worth  while  to  resist  the  encroachment  of  week- 
day interests.  And  the  resistance  must  be  firm, 
for  much  is  ever  waiting  to  be  completed,  and 
overlapping  fragments  of  workaday  life  will  make 
it  impossible  without  watchfulness  to  be  in  the 
Spirit  on  the  Lord's  Day. 

There  is  another  special  day,  hidden  from  us  all 
hi  the  future,  when  one  would  wish  above  most 
days  to  be  in  the  Spirit — the  day  of  one's  death. 
When  we  think  of  all  that  death  involves  for 
believing  men,  we  cannot  but  class  it  among  the 
festivals  of  life.  Its  freedom  from  old  bonds,  its 
sudden  new  adventure,  its  chance  for  turning  the 
experience  of  life  to  use,  its  light  of  vision  and 
the  beginning  of  eternal  peace — surely  it  is  a  day 
of  the  Lord,  and  it  must  be  a  thing  to  be  desired 
that  on  that  day  He  will  grant  us  a  mood  fit  and 
becoming ;  that  the  busy  interests  of  life  may  die 
down  and  leave  us  free  to  go  out  upon  a  full  tide 
of  the  Spirit. 

We  are  in  serious  danger  of  crowding  out  the 
Spirit  from  the  days,  and  this  is  a  New  Year's  Day 
plea  for  homes  and  hearts.  Our  days  too  often 
miss  the  rare  excellence  that  somehow  seems 
their  rightful  heritage.  We  feel  that  there  is 
"  something  deep  and  satisfying,  and  really  close  at 
hand,  into  which  we  cannot  enter  nor  dwell ".  But 
can  we  not  find  the  secret  of  the  days,  and  rescue 
the  fragrance  of  their  departing  sweetness  ?     Our 


ON  THE  OBSEEVANCE  OF  DAYS  7 

special  days  supply  at  least  one  answer,  if  we  shall 
but  keep  them  special  and  apart.  Great  experiences 
of  the  Spirit  are  generally  defeated  by  trifles  which 
absorb  and  depress  us.  These  trifles  come  to  us  as 
duties,  and  the  minute  and  manifold  sense  of  obliga- 
tion shuts  out  the  larger  vision  in  which  alone  we 
may  find  peace.  Our  duties  come  between  us  and 
the  meaning  of  our  lives.  As  year  follows  year  and 
we  grow  older,  we  see  more  and  more  clearly  how 
much  of  the  higher  possibilities  of  life  we  have 
missed  and  are  missing,  not  only  through  blundering 
and  sin,  but  by  the  attempt  to  deal  conscientiously 
with  an  over-crow^ded  life.  To  all  who  feel  thus,  the 
ISIew  Year's  festival  brings  an  unexpected  message. 
Neglect  your  duties  now  and  then.  Let  things  take 
care  of  themselves,  and  do  you  live  your  life  and 
follow  the  vision.  The  Lord  claims  certain  days  as 
His  own.  Sundays  He  expressly  claims,  but  in 
their  degree  He  claims  also  Christmas,  New  Year's 
Day,  and  others.  It  is  not  a  day  that  comes  with 
such  anniversaries,  but  a  Spirit :  and  the  name  of 
the  day,  if  the  Spirit  be  wanting,  is  a  sarcasm.  It  is 
ours  to  be  in  this  Spirit  on  the  Lord's  Day. 


CONCERNING  GIFTS 

[Epiphany) 

The  gifts  of  the  Magi. — St.  Matthew  ii.  11. 

There  is  no  story  in  all  the  world  more  beautiful 
than  this.  There  is  the  wistfulness  of  long  wander- 
ing about  these  three  strangers,  star-guided  across 
the  desert.  We  think,  as  we  read,  of  the  Moslem 
pilgrims  who  to  this  day  may  be  seen,  shrouded 
figures  upon  camel-back  in  that  same  desert,  guiding 
themselves  towards  Mecca  by  the  selected  star  ''  at 
the  left  ear".  And  these  are  but  stray  instances 
of  man's  long  search  for  the  highest  he  can  con- 
ceive. 

But  those  ancient  wanderers  were  generous,  and 
travelled  that  they  might  give.  And  in  this  very 
simple  story  we  find  among  other  things  a  strangely 
applicable  hint  of  the  true  spirit  of  generosity. 
Christmas  was  a  time  of  gifts,  and  now,  as  we  are 
returning  from  its  festive  season  to  plainer  days,  it 
is  well  that  we  should  remember  something  of  its 
lessons  about  giving.  Those  men  '*  saw,  and  fell 
down,  and  gave  ".  They  did  not  give  without  seeing, 
as  so  much  modern  charity  gives.     To  put  down 

(8) 


CONCEENING  GIFTS  9 

one's  name  in  a  list  of  subscribers,  while  one  hardly 
knows  what  is  the  object  of  the  charity,  is  a 
fashionable  way  of  saving  the  trouble  of  investiga- 
tion and  of  sympathy,  but  it  is  not  worth  the  name 
of  benevolence.  Nor  did  they  give  without  falling 
down.  Many  are  willing  to  be  generous  who  are 
yet  too  proud  to  bow  down  their  spirit  in  worship. 
It  is  so  much  easier  to  give  than  to  fall  down  in 
reverence  and  humility  :  but  liberality  will  not  be 
accepted  in  lieu  of  worship. 

For  Christmas  is  not  only  a  time  of  open-hearted- 
ness  between  man  and  man.  It  brings  with  it  also 
the  desire  to  give  to  Christ — a  desire  which  some- 
times comes  to  us  all,  though  we  do  not  always 
understand  it.  Remembering  God's  unspeakable 
gift  to  us,  and  seeing  the  response  of  those  ''  star-led 
wizards  on  the  Eastern  road,"  we  cannot  but  say  to 
ourselves : — 

Hast  thou  no  verse,  no  hymn,  or  solemn  strain, 
To  welcome  him  to  this  his  new  abode. 

And,  if  we  may  so  far  follow  tradition,  it  is  worth 
while  to  remember  that  these  men,  opening  their 
bales  of  treasure,  brought  gifts  each  from  his  own 
land.  The  gold  was  from  India,  the  frankincense 
from  Persia,  and  the  myrrh  from  Arabia.  They 
did  not  say  that  these,  the  products  of  their  own 
lands,  were  common  and  everyday  things,  and 
set  about  procuring  statues  from  Greece  or  tin 
from  Britain.     They  brought  what  they  had.     So, 


10  CONCEKNING  GIFTS 

for  us  all,  the  gift  that  Christ  will  value  most  will 
never  be  that  which  grows  in  somebody  else's 
country.  It  will  not  be  some  better  or  nobler 
thing  than  what  you  have,  but  just  that. 

Of  course,  in  the  fullest  sense  of  the  words,  this 
means  that  strange  and  precious  gift — yourself. 
''  Your  own  redeemed  personality  "  is  the  one  gift 
which  Christ  desires  and  will  value.  Nay,  your 
own  personality,  very  incompletely  redeemed  as  yet. 
We  are  not  what  we  might  have  been,  we  are  not 
what  we  ought  to  be,  we  are  not  what  we  hope  to 
be  ;  but  such  as  we  are,  we  may  give  ourselves  to 
Him,  and  the  gift  will  not  be  rejected. 

As  to  these  three  gifts  of  the  story,  Matthew 
Henry,  with  his  pleasant  common  sense,  finds  in 
them  simply  a  "  seasonable  relief  to  Joseph  "  in  his 
poverty.  Ancient  commentators  used  to  find  more 
in  them  than  that,  seeing  in  the  gold  a  tribute  to  a 
king,  in  the  frankincense  an  offering  to  a  God, 
and  in  the  myrrh  a  burial  gift  to  the  dead  ;  and 
precisely  the  same  ideas  are  to  be  found  in  at  least 
one  old  carol.  Whether  the  beautiful  story  as  it 
was  originally  told  meant  this  or  not,  it  is  a  vener- 
able tradition,  and  it  is  certainly  true  for  us. 

1.  Gokl — the  tribute  to  a  king.  There  is  in 
us  all  a  response  to  royalty  and  a  delight  in  it. 
The  child  who  worships  strength,  and  makes  a 
heroic  figure  of  any  famous  athlete  or  player  of 
games,  knows  the  meaning  of  this.     For  the  grown 


CONCEENING  GIFTS  11 

man  it  may  stand  for  the  secular  life  of  work  and 
politics,  the  life  most  richly  endowed  with  intellect- 
ual power  or  social  influence.  It  includes  business 
capacity,  professional  excellence,  expertness  in  art, 
literature,  or  science.  All  this  region  is  the  royal 
domain  of  man's  secular  interests,  his  knowledge 
and  his  power.  The  reason  why  many  people  drift 
away  from  faith  is  that  they  seek  to  reserve  it 
for  a  special  and  exclusive  compartment  of  their 
life,  which  they  choose  to  call  ''religious".  Had 
they  brought  in  tribute  to  Christ  the  produce  of 
their  own  region,  the  gold  of  the  secular  life,  they 
would  never  have  drifted  at  all.  And  such  tribute, 
offered  at  this  cradle,  recalls  to  their  blessed  child- 
hood lives  which  otherwise  too  surely  grow  out  of 
it  into  unsimple  ways.  It  is  well  to  offer  gold  at 
Christ's  cradle. 

Born  a  King  on  Bethlehem's  plain, 
Gold  I  bring,  to  crown  Him  again, 
King  for  ever,  ceasing  never, 
Over  us  all  to  reign. 

2.  Frankincense — an  offering  to  God.  This  was 
a  fragrant  resin  exuded  from  the  bark  of  a  certain 
tree,  which  formed  an  ingredient  of  incense  in  the 
ancient  East.  Incense  was  offered  as  a  sweet 
savour  to  the  Deity,  and  it  became  the  symbol  of 
prayers  and  vows,  of  aspirations  and  all  the  sweet- 
ness of  man's  worship.  This  is  the  complement  of 
the  gold,  and  there  are  some  who  are  peculiarly 


12  CONCERNING  GIFTS 

rich  in  it,  people  who  are  born  with  a  genius  for 
rehgion.  It  is  an  element  in  the  life  of  all 
children.  The  tender  conscience  and  spiritual 
longings  of  childhood  are  not  only  normal  but 
characteristic  gifts  of  the  early  days.  On  through 
later  years  this  faculty  persists.  Too  often,  in- 
deed, the  frankincense  is  laid  away  with  the  child's 
toys.  There  is  no  worship  any  more,  and  the 
wistful  and  reverent  child  grows  into  a  prayerless 
man  or  woman.  Yet  there  are  some  natures  so 
richly  endowed  with  this  that  to  the  end  of  life 
they  cannot  be  satisfied  with  being  strong  and 
serviceable.  They  must  also  find  God,  and  offer 
to  Him  a  certain  exquisiteness  of  service.  They 
present  their  most  beautiful  and  fragrant  things, 
and  about  their  lives  there  is  ever  a  delicate  aroma 
of  worship.  It  is  frankincense  that  grows  in  their 
country. 

But  it  grows  in  every  land,  and  even  those  whose 
secular  instincts  are  strongest  may  return  to  their 
childhood  as  they  offer  their  gift  at  this  cradle. 
They  may  come  back  from  the  busy  secular  life 
with  its  striving  to  this  peace ;  back  from  intel- 
lectual perplexities,  till  they  are  once  more  among 
a  few  simple  things,  longing  after  God,  and  hear- 
ing again  the  call  to  worship  like  bells  long  silent. 

Frankincense  to  offer  have  I, 
Incense  owns  a  Deity  nigh. 
Prayer  and  praising,  all  men  raising, 
Worship  Him,  God  most  high. 


CONCEENING  GIFTS  13 

3.  Myrrh— iov  burial  spices.  Myrrh,  dropping 
in  reddish-brown  drops  like  tears,  was  prized  for 
its  sweet  scent — a  far-away  Eastern  ,kind  of  scent, 
that  would  sweeten  the  air  of  the  stable  while  the 
little  child  lay  there.  But  the  chief  use  of  myrrh 
was  for  very  precious  ointment  with  which  they 
embalmed  the  dead.  Long  afterwards,  when  that 
scent  rose  from  the  gift  of  Mary,  Jesus  at  once 
said  it  was  for  His  burial.  And  this  odour  of  burial- 
spice  was  about  the  cradle  in  the  inn  of  Bethlehem. 

There  are  some  who  know  it  well.  They  are 
acquainted  with  grief,  with  loneliness,  with  anxi- 
eties, and  bereavements.  They  themselves  have 
sorrowed  much,  and  felt  the  sorrow,  the  pain,  and 
the  death  around  them  in  the  world.  Their  hearts 
are  full  of  a  great  compassion,  and  their  loving 
eyes  are  tearful.  Ah,  it  is  myrrh  that  grows  in 
their  country,  and  that  will  be  their  fitting  gift  to 
Jesus.  The  dying  and  the  ailing  folk,  the  poor, 
and  the  sad,  and  the  desolate,  will  know  the  odour 
of  their  gift.  And  all  may  bring  this  also,  for 
all  must  grieve  and  weep  at  times.  Only  let  them 
offer  it  at  His  cradle  that  so  their  hearts  may  be 
kept  from  hardness,  with  a  tender  simplicity  in 
their  sorrow. 

Myrrh  is  mine,  its  bitter  perfume 
Breathes  a  life  of  gathering  gloom  ; 
Sorrowing,  sighing,  blinding,  dying, 
Sealed  in  the  stone-cold  tomb. 


THE  CONSECRATION  OF  IMPERIALISM 

"He  leadeth  them  out." — St.  John  x.  3. 

It  is  of  peculiar  interest  now  and  then  to  cast  our 
eyes  back  to  the  origins  of  our  modern  institutions, 
and  to  observe  the  background  of  our  advancing 
civihzation.  When  we  examine  even  the  newest 
inventions  we  find  many  traces  of  the  oldest  occupa- 
tions. We  are  all  the  children  of  primitive  hunts- 
men, sailors,  shepherds,  or  tillers  of  the  ground  ; 
and  that  remotest  ancestry  has  an  incalculable  effect 
upon  the  development  of  humanity  to  its  latest  day. 
But  of  all  the  primitive  occupations  of  mankind, 
there  is  none  that  has  done ,  so  much  to  make  and 
keep  life  gentle  as  that  of  the  shepherd.  True,  the 
shepherd  races  have  been  wild  and  rude,  and  in 
some  lands  the  word  ''  shepherd  "  has  been  almost 
synonymous  with  ''  robber  ".  But  the  care  of  lambs, 
and  the  very  fact  of  dwelling  among  the  flower  of 
the  grass,  have  their  effect.  The  shepherd  life, 
like  all  other  phases  in  the  evolution  of  the  race, 
tends  upwards  towards  its  ideal.  Many  a  gentle 
element  in  our  modern  days  had  its  rude  begin- 
nings in  the  sheep-folds,  and  the  Good  Shepherd 

(14) 


THE  CONSECKATION  OF  IMPEKIALISM     15 

ideal  of  tender  pity  for  all  weakness  and  suffering 
was  learned  long  ago  in  prehistoric  fields. 

Much  of  this  the  world  owes  to  the  Semites,  in 
whom  the  pastoral  instinct  is  deep  as  life  itself 
Every  one  knows  how  close  are  the  relations  which 
still  exist  between  the  Eastern  shepherd  and  his 
wandering  flock.  On  the  hillsides  of  Judea,  with 
the  subtle  music  of  the  pipe  quivering  faintly  in 
the  twilight,  one  understands  all  the  detail  of  the 
twenty-third  Psalm  and  the  tenth  chapter  of  St. 
John's  Gospel.  At  Hebron  a  few  years  ago  a 
traveller,  noticing  that  the  sheep-folds  were  mere 
c-shaped  walls,  asked  a  shepherd  why  they  had  no 
doors.  He  answered  ^'  I  am  the  door  "  ;  meaning 
that  at  night  he  lay  wrapped  in  his  cloak  in  the 
open  entrance.  At  once  one  understands  in  that 
saying  what  Christ  meant  when  He  used  it.  In 
the  fold  of  faith  He  has  placed  himself  between 
those  that  are  His  and  all  the  world.  No  sheep 
can  wander  without  passing  Him,  nor  can  any 
ravenous  beast  enter  to  devour  but  over  His  body. 
Outside  are  the  trying  things,  the  tempting  things 
and  dangers ;  within,  all  is  peace  and  safety,  and 
that  sweet  and  gentle  familiarity  in  which  ''He 
calleth  his  own  sheep  by  name". 

Yet  the  text  presents  another  aspect  of  shep- 
herd life.  In  the  words  "He  leadeth  them  out" 
our  faces  are  turned  towards  the  future  and  the 
wider  world.     In  Old  Testament  imagery  nothing 


16     THE  CONSECEATION  OF  IMPEKIALISM 

is  more  suggestive  than  the  frequency  with  which 
the  pastoral  and  the  military  ideas  are  combined, 
as  in  that  splendid  picture  of  God  leading  the 
hosts  of  Israel  ''out  of  Egypt  like  a  flock".  So 
it  ever  must  be.  Faith,  indeed,  offers  a  safe  fold  to 
believers,  but  its  shelter  and  quiet  are  not  meant 
to  last.  In  spite  of  the  desire  which  has  expressed 
itself  in  Roman  Catholic  monasticism,  and  in 
individual  reactions  in  Protestantism  toward  the 
secluded  life,  the  call  is  inexorable. 

Far  from  the  world,  O  Lord,  I  flee, 

From  strife  and  tumult  far ; 
From  scenes  where  Satan  wages  still, 

His  most  successful  war ; 

— every  one  can  understand  the  tired  fighter's  long- 
ing for  rest,  or  the  shrinking  of  a  timid  and  sensitive 
spirit  from  a  world  with  which  it  found  itself  incom- 
petent to  grapple.  Yet,  surely,  the  scene  where 
Satan  is  waging  his  most  successful  war  can  hardly 
be  the  place  to  flee  from  !  Where  else  should  the 
Christian  be  ?  Such  sentiments  are  well  enough 
for  an  hour  of  weariness  when  relaxation  and  rest 
are  needed,  but  they  can  never  be  a  typical  state- 
ment of  the  Christian  life.  It  is  vain  for  any 
healthy  Christian  to  imagine  that  it  can  be  right 
for  him  to  spend  his  years  in  nursing  his  own  soul, 
and  such  ideals  of  the  devotional  life  are  but  a 
refined  form  of  self-indulgence. 


THE  CONSECEATION  OF  IMPEEIALISM     17 

Forth  from  the  casemate,  on  the  plain 
Where  honour  has  the  world  to  gain : 
Pour  forth  and  bravely  do  your  part, 
Oh  knights  of  the  unshielded  heart  I 
Forth  and  for  ever  forward  ! — out 
From  pinident  turret  and  redoubt. 

For  the  words  of  Jesus  are  resolute  though  they 
are  gentle.  He  is  quite  determined  that  his  fol- 
lowers shall  go  out.  Life  in  this  world  is  not  meant 
to  be  a  sheep-fold  for  the  faithful ;  it  is  an  affair 
of  sterner  meaning,  with  action  in  it  and  adventure. 

This  leads  us  into  the  public  life  of  our  times, 
with  a  call  to  understand  and  take  a  part  in  its 
movements.  We  must  go  out  as  thinkers,  with 
fearless  exploration  of  new  fields  of  truth  ;  as 
workers,  to  take  up  the  unfinished  tasks  of  the 
world ;  as  soldiers  to  fight  the  long-standing  evils, 
and  to  help  the  weak  causes  of  the  times  ;  as 
searchers  who  shall  seek  until  they  find  the  lost. 
Every  such  career  means  risk  and  adventure,  a 
strain  and  stress  of  energy  and  an  uncertain  future. 
We  are  flung  back  for  comfort,  not  upon  the  warmth 
and  shelter  of  the  fold,  but  upon  the  character  of 
the  shepherd.  It  is  a  more  wholesome  and  a  more 
bracing  comfort. 

The  practical  meaning  of  all  this  brings  us  at 
once  to  the  thought  of  our  national  life  and  work. 
The  idea  of  imperialism  is  in  the  air,  and  it  is  of 
first  importance  to  attain  to  a  right  conception  of  the 
true  spirit  of  empire.     There  is  no  need  to  touch 


18    THE  CONSECEATION  OF  IMPEEIALISM 

here  upon  the  politics  of  imperialism.  For  British 
people  empire  is  a  fact,  and  travel  is  an  instinct. 
Never  since  the  days  of  the  Elizabethan  adventurers 
have  we  stayed  at  home.  This  is  more  or  less  true 
of  every  nation,  but  it  is  of  course  especially  true 
of  countries  whose  extensive  seaboard  has  forced 
upon  them  the  work  and  destiny  of  great  maritime 
powers.  We  find  ourselves  heirs  to  large  responsi- 
bilities which  we  dare  not  and  cannot  surrender. 
It  is  these  responsibilities  which  force  upon  us  the 
question,  Who  leadeth  us  out?  If  we  are  to  go 
forth  to  the  ends  of  the  earth,  whom  or  what  shall 
our  flag  follow  ?  Shall  it  be  mammon,  or  the  mere 
instinct  of  wandering  and  adventure,  or  the  dream 
of  glory,  or  Jesus  Christ  ?  President  Roosevelt  in 
a  recent  speech  said  :  "  I  have  the  keenest  sympathy 
with  the  spread  of  the  English  empire,  and  I  have 
that  sympathy  because  and  so  long  as  the  spread  of 
that  rule  means  benefit  to  the  people  over  whom  it 
goes  ".  It  is  ours  to  see  to  it  that  in  the  manage- 
ment of  empire  we  prove  ourselves  worthy  of  such 
praise. 

Our  foreign  mission  enterprise  is  one  way 
in  which  we  have  sought  to  meet  these  responsi- 
bilities. Let  us  link  on  the  missionary  w^ith  the 
imperial  idea,  for  foreign  missions  are  but  the  bap- 
tism of  imperialism  with  the  Holy  Ghost.  Their 
enterprise  carries  out  in  modern  times  the  great 
dreams  of  old — Augustine's  Citt/  of  God^  Dante's 


THE  CONSECRATION  OF  IMPERIALISM     19 

De  Monar cilia,  More's  Utopia,  Bacon's  Neiv  Atlantis. 
These  dreams  shall  be  fulfilled  when  the  kingdoms 
of  the  world  are  become  the  kingdom  of  our  God 
and  of  his  Christ.  In  this  light  all  narrower  and 
poorer  elements  fall  away  from  the  missionary  idea. 
It  is  no  longer  a  pious  and  romantic  sentiment, 
nor  a  matter  of  individual  evangelism  conducted  in 
picturesque  circumstances.  It  is  a  great  depart- 
ment of  statesmanship,  whose  end  is  the  conquest 
of  the  world  for  the  empire  of  Jesus  Christ.  At 
home,  the  already  submerged  masses  of  the  com- 
munity are  sinking  towards  despair  and  revolution  ; 
abroad,  vast  lands  are  rising  into  what  may  well 
become  a  godless  civilization,  more  dangerous  to 
the  world  than  their  ancient  barbarisms.  Surely 
the  Church  of  Christ  is  called  at  such  a  time,  not 
merely  to  individual  heroism,  but  to  statesmanship 
of  the  highest  order,  with  intelligent  strategy  and 
concerted  action.  Surely  our  Christian  life  to-day 
is  to  be  regarded  not  as  a  sheep-fold  but  as  a 
crusade. 

But  there  is  much  British  life  abroad  outside  the 
mission  fields.  As  we  follow  in  imagination  the 
sweep  of  sunrise  across  the  world,  and  think  of 
the  British  men  whom  it  awakens  in  every  land,  we 
cannot  but  ask  again.  Who  will  lead  them  out  ?  The 
lands  into  which  they  go  lie  open  to  the  kingdom 
of  God.  By  our  missionary  enterprise  we  can  do 
much,  but  we  can  do  more  by  the  sons  of  the  empire, 


20    THE  CONSECEATION  OF  IMPEEIALISM 

if  their  standards  are  high  and  their  ideals  Chris- 
tian, in  politics,  education,  industry,  and  commerce. 
Baptize  these  with  the  Spirit  of  Christ,  and  you 
shall  soon  leaven  the  world. 

For  the  soldier  and  sailor  far  across  the  seas,  the 
civil  servant  in  India,  the  merchant  in  Singapore, 
the  Chartered  Company  clerk  in  Africa,  are  mission- 
aries, either  of  God  or  of  the  devil.  They  are 
giving  its  moral  tone  to  the  empire,  and  either 
blessing  or  cursing  the  world.  And  your  offices 
where  boys  are  learning  business,  your  firesides 
from  which  your  sons  and  daughters  go  forth — there 
you  are  fixing  the  principles  and  setting  the  tone 
which  they  will  carry  with  them  to  far-off*  lands. 
Every  business  man  among  his  clerks,  every  mother 
kneeling  beside  a  British  cradle,  may  be  determin- 
ing the  fate  of  nations,  and  setting  the  time  for  the 
coming  of  God's  kingdom  in  the  ends  of  the  earth. 
If  your  children  shall  go  forth,  as  most  assuredly 
they  shall,  it  is  for  you  to  make  sure  of  this,  that 
Christ,  and  not  the  enemies  of  Christ,  shall  lead  them 
out. 


LEADERSHIP,  FALSE  AND  TEUE 

"He  leadeth  them  out." — St.  John  x.  3. 

All  great  ideas  which  relate  to  the  national  and 
public  welfare  of  mankind,  return,  when  accepted 
conscientiously,  to  the  field  of  individual  life,  and 
appear  there  in  simpler  forms.  Our  first  responsi- 
bility is  not  for  our  country  but  for  ourselves.  There 
are  dangers  lying  in  wait  for  us,  and  sacred  places 
unvisited  as  yet,  for  all  of  which  we  require  a  leader. 
So  the  words  apply  to  each  one's  daily  exit  upon 
the  world.  As  your  door  closes  behind  you  in  the 
morning,  and  you  go  forth  into  a  new  day's  moral 
and  spiritual  adventure,  who  leadeth  you  out  ? 

The  need  of  guidance  is  obvious,  and  all  the  wise 
know  and  confess  it.  Experience  has  taught  them 
that  they  are  never  intellectually  competent  until 
they  are  learning  from  a  higher  wisdom  than  their 
own,  nor  morally  free  until  they  are  obeying  orders. 
The  attempt  to  go  unguided  ultimately  leads  to 
wavering  faith,  mistaken  judgments,  irresolute  and 
tentative  movement ;  and  sooner  or  later  in  most 
cases  it  leads  to  that  discouragement  and  darkness 

in  which  men  stand  still,  or  turn  to  retrace  their 

(21) 


22  LEADEESHIP,  FALSE  AND  TEUE 

steps.  The  case  could  not  be  better  nor  more 
beautifully  described  than  it  is  in  Dinah's  sermon 
in  Adam  Bede:  '^As  soon  as  we  lay  ourselves 
entirely  at  His  feet  we  have  light  enough  given  us 
to  guide  our  own  steps ;  as  the  foot-soldier,  who 
hears  nothing  of  the  counsels  that  determine  the 
course  of  the  great  battle  he  is  in,  hears  plainly 
enough  the  word  of  command  which  he  must  him- 
self obey  ".  There  is  a  wistf ulness  that  George 
Eliot  would  have  confessed  to  be  almost  envious,  in 
these  words  that  come  from  her  pen.  Every  great 
spirit  longs  for  leading. 

But  the  situation  is  complicated  by  the  fact  that 
there  are  other  leaderships  which  offer  themselves. 
First,  there  is  circumstance.  Many  people  go  stroll- 
ing on  through  life  uncommitted  to  a  course.  We 
see  them  standing  at  the  cross-roads,  and  their 
course  seems  to  be  determined  almost  by  the  direc- 
tion of  the  wind,  so  open  are  they  to  casual  in- 
fluence. Any  passing  example,  any  pressure  of  the 
crowd,  is  enough  to  lead  them  forward,  this  way  or 
that.  Few  things  are  sadder  than  the  spectacle  of 
this  helpless  flock  with  its  chance  shepherding  and 
its  lack  of  guiding  principles.  You  ask  them  why 
they  are  doing  this  or  that,  and  they  answer  that 
they  had  heard  it  commended,  or  that  something 
they  had  read  suggested  it.  It  never  occurs  to 
them  to  inquire  whether  these  were  competent 
guides,  in  this  age  of  such  singularly  irresponsible 


LEADEKSHIP,  FALSE  AND  TRUE  23 

guidance,  when  every  novice  is  shouting  out  ad- 
vice, and  we  so  seldom  know  whether  our  oracular 
literary  guides  have  found  their  own  path  or  not. 
But  our  Christian  faith  offers  a  very  different  guid- 
ance. Those  who  follow  it  do  so  in  freedom, 
with  thoughtful  and  deliberate  choice,  constrained 
not  by  the  accidental  hearing  of  an  unknown  voice, 
but  by  love  and  trust.  For  their  Guide,  unseen  but 
yet  familiar,  goes  before  them,  and  they  know  His 
voice  and  follow  Him. 

Others  take  their  direction  from  fashion,  and  the 
custom  of  society.  It  seems  a  safe  guide,  and 
indeed  the  reason  why  so  many  choose  it  is  because 
it  saves  them  the  risk  of  originality.  Yet  when  we 
analyse  it  we  find  that  in  the  majority  of  cases  no 
one  can  tell  who  started  the  fashion.  At  some 
unknown  time,  some  nonentity  chanced  to  do  some- 
thing, and  another  nonentity  copied  him,  and  so  the 
custom  arose.  In  their  day,  nobody  took  these 
nonentities  for  authorities  ;  yet  all  men  follow  them 
now,  simply  because  they  are  unknown.  But  the 
very  note  of  Christianity  is  that  it  appears  erratic 
to  the  outsider.  It  is  original  if  it  is  anything. 
The  Christian  is  a  new  creation,  with  new  ways 
unlike  those  of  others.  '*To  act  like  men,"  has, 
from  the  days  of  the  prophets,  been  a  reproach  to 
the  people  of  God.  The  reason  again  is  that  they 
have  a  guide  unseen  by  the  eyes  of  the  rest.  Copy- 
ing Christ,  and  following  in  His  footsteps,  they  are 


24  LEADEKSHIP,  FALSE  AND  TEUE 

independent  of  the  many  paths  in  which  others 
wander. 

But  there  are  also  those  who  boast  that  they  find 
their  own  way  for  themselves.  Seeking  no  leading 
from  above,  and  regardless  alike  of  the  opinion  and 
the  example  of  their  fellows,  they  are  a  law  unto 
themselves,  obeying  only  their  own  will.  This 
vaunted  self-will  is  largely  a  delusion.  Indeed  there 
is  generally  less  of  will  in  it  than  in  almost  any 
other  type  of  character.  They  are  really  dominated 
by  the  mood  of  the  moment,  and  that  mood  runs 
back  into  the  past.  Not  even  can  our  own  past, 
the  habitual  choices  which  largely  determine  our 
moods,  account  for  it.  Heredity  has  also  to  be 
remembered ;  and  it  is  probable  that  those  whose 
moods  are  most  commanding  owe  most  to  heredity. 
Some  obscure  ancestor  repeats  his  life  in  them  : 
and  all  the  time  that  they  are  priding  themselves 
upon  their  independence,  they  are  really  following 
docile  in  the  steps  of  the  ancient  dead,  going  after  a 
spectral  guide  who  emerges  upon  them  from  the 
grave.  The  Christian's  leadership  is  different.  He 
follows  not  the  call  of  the  dead  in  his  blood,  but 
the  voice  of  the  living  in  his  soul.  He  is  not  held 
by  the  dead  hand  of  heredity  to  the  moral  and 
spiritual  ways  of  the  past,  but  with  sure  footsteps 
he  is  moving  away  from  the  past  into  the  future 
and  the  will  of  Christ. 

"  Christus  dux  "  —  and  life  under  that  aspect   is 


LEADEESHIP,  FALSE  AND  TKUE  25 

a  great  thing  indeed.  Its  course  is  set  by  one 
decisive  choice,  its  direction  continued  in  imitation 
of  His  example  and  under  the  prompting  of  His 
spirit.  He  leads  us  out  of  childhood  into  youth, 
and  that  is  adolescence ;  out  of  ignorance  into 
knowledge,  and  that  is  education ;  out  of  the  old 
home  with  its  love  and  preparation,  into  the  new 
home  with  its  new  love  and  fulfilment  of  tasks,  and 
that  is  the  man's  career  ;  out  of  familiar  truth  and 
thought  into  new  intellectual  adventure,  and  that 
is  the  inevitable  progress  of  thought  which  no  man 
needs  to  fear,  so  long  as  upon  the  title  page  of  all 
his  books  he  writes  ''  He  leadeth  them  out  ".  At 
last  he  leadeth  them  out  of  this  earthly  life  into 
the  unknown  and  wonderful  and  blessed  land 
beyond— and  that  is  death,  no  more  than  the  old 
leading  through  new  fields. 

We  spoke  before  of  the  leadership  of  Christ  as 
the  true  imperialism,  but  in  actual  experience  there 
come  times  when  we  are  constrained  to  ask,  Is  this 
empire  or  is  it  exile  ?  For  we  find  ourselves  led 
out  of  old  security  into  battle  and  danger,  out  of 
luxurious  sheltered  meadows  into  paths  that  are 
hard  and  dull,  out  of  small  complacent  successes 
into  new  and  strange  defeats.  The  waste  and  risk 
of  it  all  sometimes  terrify  the  spirits  of  those  who 
follow,  and  they  cry  out  upon  so  bitter  a  leading. 

It  is  well  here  to  remember  that  in  a  great  leader 
two  things  are  requisite.    Clearness  is  indispensable, 


26  LEADEKSHIP,  FALSE  AND  TEUE 

so  far  as  directions  go,  and  the  detail  must  be 
absolutely  plain.  And,  apart  from  ease  or  difficulty, 
there  is  not  any  reason  here  to  murmur.  The 
leading  may  be  bitter,  full  of  sacrifice  and  suffering 
at  times,  but  at  least  we  can  understand  our  orders. 
It  may  be  hard,  but  it  certainly  will  not  be  doubtful 
to  those  who  are  absolutely  willing  to  be  led.  And 
the  second  thing  requisite  in  great  leadership  is 
unintelligiUlity.  A  French  historian  wisely  says 
that  no  leader  can  well  dispense  with  what  he  calls 
''  an  unsoundable  depth  ".  If  we  were  consulted, 
if  we  always  understood,  faith  would  be  super- 
fluous ;  and,  for  some  reason  or  other,  it  is  ab- 
solutely manifest  that  here  it  is  appointed  to  man 
to  live  by  faith. 

And,  after  all,  there  is  nothing  which  really  con- 
cerns us  but  our  guide.  The  fact  of  Christ  matters, 
and  the  rest  is  all  included  in  it.  And  for  ever 
more  He  justifies  His  claim  to  leadership,  to  our 
full-hearted  trust  and  implicit  following.  There  is 
a  firmness  in  those  quiet  eyes  of  His  that  reassures 
us.  This  is  one  who  knows  the  way,  and  is  master 
of  life  and  death.  Happy  indeed  are  those  who 
trust  that  leading  through  all  changes  of  apparent 
good  and  evil  fortune,  who  anticipate  the  life  of 
heaven  by,  learning  here  upon  the  earth  to  ''  follow 
the  Lamb  whithersoever  He  goeth  ". 


THE  MAKING  OF  AN  APOSTLE 

[The  Conversion  of  St.  Paul) 

St.  Paul  the  Apostle. — Acts  ix.  1-9. 

This  is  the  story  of  one  of  those  profoundly  signifi- 
cant events  in  history,  on  which  the  whole  com- 
plexion of  future  thought  and  the  course  of  future 
progress  turn.  St.  Paul  is  one  of  those  Titanic 
figures  of  the  past  about  whom  everything  was  on 
the  large  scale,  both  for  himself  and  for  the  world. 
Intellectually,  his  views  of  truth  have  become  a 
fundamental  statement  of  the  creed  of  nineteen 
centuries ;  practically,  he  is  the  master  empire- 
builder  of  the  kingdom  of  God  in  the  world.  He 
laid  hold  upon  the  largest  conceptions  of  his  time 
— the  Hebrew  religion  and  the  Roman  Empire — 
and  he  transformed  them  into  the  Christian  Church. 
But  it  was  not  by  the  natural  development  of  his 
genius  that  he  did  this.  Up  to  a  certain  moment 
in  his  career,  his  powers  were  running  to  waste, 
spending  themselves  in  the  most  futile  ways.  At 
that  moment  something  occurred  which  revolution- 
ized his  whole  life,  an  upheaval  of  the  very  founda- 
tions of  the  man.  The  word  '  conversion '  is  some- 
times so  lightly  used  that  many  earnest  people  are 

(27) 


28  THE  MAKING  OF  AN  APOSTLE 

inclined  to  avoid  it.  It  often  means  simply  the 
memory  of  an  emotion,  which  has  left  the  man 
without  a  master,  and  without  a  task.  But  the 
greatness  of  this  man's  nature  ensured  the  thorough- 
ness of  the  change  in  him.  Such  a  man's  conversion 
is  a  tremendous  affair. 

It  is  worth  our  while  in  the  first  place  to  inquire 
into  the  events  which  led  up  to  that  change.  For 
it  is  evident  that  it  was  sudden  only  in  its  climax, 
as  we  may  gather  even  from  the  words  ''  kicking 
against  the  pricks  ".  This  is  borne  out  by  the  alto- 
gether excessive  zeal  of  the  voluntary  inquisitor. 
When  we  think  what  humble  folk  these  early 
Christians  were— slaves,  women  who  earned  their 
livelihood  by  trade,  odds  and  ends  of  the  below- 
stairs  life  of  the  great  Empire— and  when  we 
remember  how  he  rushed  from  house  to  house 
after  them,  and  how  everything  was  at  its  harshest 
and  most  violent,  we  can  see  the  unnaturalness 
of  it  all.  No  one  likes  this  sort  of  work  for  its 
own  sake,  and  this  fiery  crusade,  self-imposed,  is 
certainly  suspicious. 

Who  lights  the  faggot  ? 
Not  the  full  faith ;  no,  but  the  lurking  doubt. 

On  the  other  hand,  we  know  from  himself  that 
he  had  already  been  struck  tame  by  the  discovery 
of  the  sinfulness  of  coveting,  and  the  inward 
nature   of  morality.     Pharisaic  Judaism  could  do 


THE  MAKING  OF  AN  APOSTLE  29 

nothing  to  help  him  in  that,  but  it  was  a  first 
principle  of  Jesus'  teaching.  And  there  was  much 
else  in  the  new  faith  that  must  have  strongly 
attracted  him.  The  character  of  Jesus,  and  of  His 
followers,  was  after  all  inexplicably  beautiful,  what- 
ever one  might  think  about  their  principles.  Those 
women  with  the  Madonna-like  faces,  those  young 
men  whose  eyes  were  full  of  spiritual  light — un- 
doubtedly they  had  some  secret  of  gladness  and 
of  serenity  hidden  from  the  ancient  world.  Thus 
he  was  already  more  or  less  consciously  dissatisfied 
with  Judaism  and  tempted  towards  Christianity. 

Yet  such  a  change  meant  too  much  for  him  to 
make  it  possible  that  he  should  lightly  capitulate. 
On  the  one  hand,  it  was  unthinkable  to  his  proud 
spirit  that  simple  people  like  the  Christians  had 
been  right,  while  he  and  all  thinkers  whom  he  re- 
spected had  been  wrong.  And  then,  if  by  any 
chance  it  should  be  true,  the  ghastly  alternative 
was  that  he  and  his  friends  had  seen  their  own 
Messiah,  and  crucified  Him.  No  wonder  that  he 
felt  ''the  anguish  of  a  constant  misgiving".  It 
was  the  clash  of  two  consciences  within  him.  It 
was  impossible  to  go  on  for  long  with  this  hunting  of 
such  small  and  defenceless  game  without  a  pang ; 
and  yet  a  sorer  pang  threatened  him  if  for  a  moment 
he  admitted  the  possibility  of  his  nation's  crime, 
and  the  falsehood  of  her  fixed  convictions. 

It  was  characteristic  of  the  man  to  seek  to  settle 


30  THE  MAKING  OF  AN  APOSTLE 

the  conflict  by  a  blind  and  furious  dash  for  one 
side.  But  the  journey  gave  him  much  enforced 
leisure  when  he  was  not  in  a  mood  that  could  bear 
to  be  still.  Whatever  route  he  chose,  he  could  not 
escape  daily  memories  of  Jesus  and  His  doings. 
He  was  no  longer  backed  by  public  opinion,  and 
the  solitary  ride  only  gave  freer  course  to  his  un- 
certain thoughts.  By  the  time  he  had  drawn 
near  to  Damascus,  he  was  evidently  growing 
feverish.  No  eastern  travels  at  high  noon  ex- 
cept upon  compulsion.  Then  in  the  still  hot  air, 
while  the  merciless  sun  beat  on  him  and  his  un- 
willing and  sullen  companions,  the  city  burst  upon 
his  view.  There  are  some  places  where  nature's 
beauty  shames  the  crimes  of  man  :  and  as  he 
thought  upon  his  helpless  victims  among  those 
homes  and  gardens,  a  fierce  reaction  was  inevit- 
able. And  all  this  for  an  uncertainty!  There 
are  truths  for  which  we  would  not  only  die,  but 
even  kill.  But  such  truths  must  be  certainties 
indeed. 

There  is  no  need  for  curious  speculation  as 
to  what  happened  then.  It  was  then  that  Paul 
met  Jesus  and  felt  the  attack  of  light  upon  his 
heart  and  conscience,  and  heard  certain  plain 
questions  that  must  find  definite  and  immediate 
answer. 

Yet  it  is  to  the  questions  that  Paul  asked  that 
day  that  we  turn  with  even  deeper  interest.     The 


THE  MAKING  OF  AN  APOSTLE  31 

first  of  them  was,"  Who  art  Thou,  Lord  ?  "  He  had 
felt  before  that  all  this  persecution,  this  harrying  of 
people  at  once  so  blameless  and  so  inflexible,  was 
far  too  cheap  and  easy  a  solution.  Behind  the  new 
faith  lay  some  mysterious  power,  that  was  good 
and  not  evil,  associated  with  the  name  of  Jesus. 
But  though  he  had  often  before  asked  the  question 
who  Jesus  w^as,  yet  it  had  been  prejudice  which 
asked  it,  while  now  it  was  conscience.  He  had 
been  aggravated  by  the  power  of  the  dead  Nazarene 
who  thwarted  him  at  every  turn.  Who  was  he, 
this  haunting  ghost,  this  troubler  of  his  times  ? 
But  now  irritation  has  given  place  to  shame,  and 
conscience  asks.  Who  art  Thou,  Lord  ?  That  change 
from  prejudice  to  conscience  was  one  point  in  which 
his  question  sets  the  type  for  such  questions  for  ever. 
Another  is,  that  he  asked  it  of  Jesus  himself.  He 
had  formerly  asked  it  of  the  Rabbis  of  his  day,  and 
now  he  might  have  inquired  of  the  Apostles.  But 
he  was  done  with  the  Rabbis  now,  and  he  expressly 
tells  us  that  it  was  three  years  before  he  met  the 
Apostles.  It  is  this  that  explains  his  power.  His 
truth  was  not  a  doctrine  learned  up  by  study ;  it 
was  his  direct  experience,  his  first-hand  knowledge 
of  Jesus  Christ.  And  here  also  he  sets  a  lasting 
type.  The  ultimate  source  of  authority  in  Christian 
faith  can  never  be  either  the  Church  or  the  Bible. 
These  themselves  are  but  the  guardian  and  the  re- 
cord of  a  revelation  made  by  God  to  the  spirit  of 


32  THE  MAKING  OF  AX  APOSTLE 

man.  And  a  similarly  direct  revelation  must  give 
to  each  believer  his  fundamental  spiritual  convic- 
tions. Each  must  ask  his  great  question  for  him- 
self, and  for  himself  find  answer. 

Paul's  second  question  is  practical,  '•'  What 
wouldst  Thou  have  me  to  do  ? "  As  the  former 
sets  us  beside  the  springs  of  his  thought,  so  this 
reveals  the  sources  of  his  activity.  For  such  a  man 
as  Paul,  conversion  without  commission  would  have 
been  a  sham  and  therefore  an  impossibility.  But 
the  great  point  to  notice  is  that  it  was  as  a  com- 
mission that  he  received  his  hfe-work,  and  in  that 
light  that  he  always  regarded  it.  Before  this 
event,  he  had  set  himself  his  tasks,  and  no  one 
could  deny  the  earnestness  with  which  he  performed 
them.  Like  many  another  strenuous  man  whose 
task  is  self-appointed,  the  main  part  of  his  life-work 
had  come  to  be  destructive.  He  was  occupied 
rather  in  opposing  other  people  than  in  doing 
service  to  the  world.  Such  destructive  energy  is 
generally  to  be  distrusted  when  it  claims  a  divine 
inspiration.  There  is  too  much  of  untamed  human 
nature  in  it ;  it  is  the  natural  work  for  the  natural 
man.  When  a  man  receives  a  commission  from 
Jesus  Christ,  it  is  to  proclaim  some  positive  gospel 
rather  than  to  deny  the  gospel  of  another.  And 
that  change  from  self-will  to  the  will  of  Christ 
broke  this  man's  pride.  The  whole  stress  was 
shifted  from  Paul  to  eJesus,  and  he  who  had  once 


THE  MAKING  OF  AN  APOSTLE  33 

been  so  sure  of  himself,  now  treasured  his  de- 
pendence on  his  Master  as  the  choicest  thing  in 
life.  He  had  capitulated  without  reservation,  and 
only  sought  now  to  receive  His  orders.  For  him  to 
live  was  Christ. 


THOUGHT  AND  ACTION 

St.  Paul's  retrospect. — Acts  xxvi.  19. 

St.  Paul  is  now  looking  back  from  near  the  end  of 
his  career  to  the  day  of  his  great  change.  From 
that  day  to  this  his  life  had  been  summed  up  in  the 
two  words,  vision  and  obedience.  The  vision  of 
Jesus  had  expanded  into  the  theology  and  religion 
of  his  Epistles ;  the  commission  had  already  re- 
sulted in  the  establishment  of  Christianity  along 
the  main  lines  of  the  Eoman  Empire.  And,  be- 
cause, not  for  Paul  only  but  for  all  of  us,  loyalty  to 
vision  is  the  truest  expression  of  the  life  we  fain 
would  lead,  we  shall  think  what  that  implies. 

The  first  apparent^  view  of  any  life  is  presented 
by  its  output  of  deeds.  The  Christian  life  is  not 
that  of  visionaries,  it  is  a  life  of  action.  The  first 
thought  of  those  who  live  it  day  by  day  is  of  some- 
thing immediately  to  be  done.  It  is  this  practical 
quality  of  the  Christian  life  which  keeps  it  both 
healthy  and  honourable.  For  the  soul  as  for  the 
nation,  service  is  the  highest  honour.  A  right 
man's  view  of  his  profession  can  never  be  merely 
that  it  is  a  means  of  gain,  but  that  it  is  a  chance 

(34) 


THOUGHT  AND  ACTION^  35 

for  service  ;  and  the  same  thing  is  true  of  even  our 
most  intimate  and  private  actions. 

Yet  this  cannot  be  all.  Every  one  remembers 
Langland's  immortal  figure  of  Haukyn  the  active 
man,  who  has  not  time  to  clean  his  coat.  Mephi- 
stopheles  is  Goethe's  great  incarnation  of  fierce  and 
clever  action  wholly  without  contemplation.  And 
these  are  but  extreme  forms  of  what  is  seen  around 
us  every  day.  Some  busy  ones  have  never  seen  any 
vision  at  all,  and  these  come  in  time  to  swell  the 
long  pathetic  line  of  the  ranks  of  the  dispirited. 
For  labour  without  light  cannot  permanently  inspire. 
It  grows  meaningless,  and  sinks  at  last  to  deep  and 
sometimes  cynical  discouragement.  Others  have 
seen,  but  their  spiritual  light  has  died  out.  They 
are  committed  by  that  former  vision  to  a  course, 
and  they  have  to  see  it  through.  Now  they  are  but 
poor  dumb  plodders,  cheerlessly  continuing  this 
blundering  night  work,  in  the  attempt  at  duty  which 
they  cannot  understand. 

The  mystery  of  this  failure  is  very  deep.  The 
conception  of  Hfe  as  action  seems  in  every  way 
so  sound  and  healthy  that  we  stand  aghast  when 
we  see  in  such  instances  "  a>  man's  loss  come  to 
him  from  his  gain ".  But  the  explanation  is  not 
difficult  to  find.  St.  Paul  had  no  magic  secret  that 
kept  labour  sweet  to  him  ;  he  had  only  vision  and 
obedience.  But  he  had  them  in  that  order — vision 
first,  and  obedience  following  from  it.     It  is  not 


36  THOUGHT  AND  ACTION 

mere  action  that  is  the  secret  of  a  healthy  life,  but 
action  performed  in  loyalty  to  something  we  have 
seen.  All  the  effective  activities  of  men  around  us 
are  just  processes  for  turning  thought  into  action — 
one's  own  thought,  or  the  thought  of  others.  In 
every  art  and  craft  and  enthusiasm  the  supreme 
secret  of  mastery  is  to  know  what  you  are  doing. 
Architecture  is  simply  thought  which  has  expressed 
itself  in  stone,  or  else  it  is  sheer  abomination.  True 
healing  comes  not  from  routine  prescription,  but 
finds  its  sources  deep  among  the  springs  of  the 
physician's  heart  and  imagination  and  experience. 
Social  reform  is  either  the  most  useless  dilettantism, 
or  it  is  the  creation  of  a  new  earth  upon  the  lines 
of  a  pattern  already  clearly  seen.  So  it  is  with  all 
good  work.  It  may  be  of  many  various  kinds  and 
there  may  be  very  many  different  ways  of  doing  it, 
but  this  is  characteristic  of  them  all,  that  a  man  is 
carrying  out  into  deed  what  he  has  seen  in  his  mind. 
Vision  ever  goes  before  action,  and  true  action  is 
loyalty  to  vision. 

In  a  still  wider  application  the  same  principle  is 
true,  for  the  inward  thought  invariably  affects  the 
outward  life  and  expresses  itself  sooner  or  later 
there.  Not  that  one  necessarily  carries  out  into 
deeds  all  one's  cherished  thoughts.  Dr.  Bain 
affirms  the  "  possibility  of  leading  a  life  of  imagina- 
tion wholly  distinct  from  the  life  of  action  " ;  and 
Mr.  Leckie  says  that  ^'a  course  may  be  continually 


THOUGHT  AND  ACTION  37 

pursued  in  imagination  without  leading  to  corre- 
sponding  actions  ".  This  is  undoubtedly  true,  but 
it  is  a  thoroughly  dangerous  fact.  On  the  one 
hand,  it  produces  dreamers  whose  dreams  are  so 
far  apart  from  their  conduct  as  to  rank  them 
among  the  hypocrites.  On  the  other  hand,  if  the 
dreaming  be  bad,  the  danger  is  very  great  that  in 
times  of  temptation  the  man  will  fall.  For  the 
most  part,  in  temptation,  little  depends  upon  the 
will  at  the  moment ;  we  stand  or  fall  according  to 
our  habitual  thoughts,  which  either  hold  us  back 
or  predispose  us  then.  And  apart  from  that,  there 
can  be  no  doubt  that  there  goes  out  from  every  life 
upon  those  around  it,  a  constant  and  subtle  influence 
which  is  determined  almost  wholly  by  the  inner 
life  of  vision — the  life  of  imagination  and  thought. 
Thoreau  has  wisely  said  :  "  If  ever  I  did  a  man  good 
...  it  was  something  exceptional  and  insignificant 
compared  with  the  good  or  evil  I  am  constantly 
doing  by  being  what  I  am  ".  A  man's  atmosphere 
and  spirit  are  always  more  powerful  influences  than 
his  deeds  and  words. 

Thus  it  is  not  surprising  that  the  matter  on  which 
Christianity  lays  most  stress  is  vision.  The 
thoughts  and  imaginations  of  the  heart ;  a  taste 
for  fine  and  clean  things,  and  an  instinctive  shrink- 
ing from  their  opposites ;  above  all  a  clear  con- 
ception of  Jesus  Christ  and  a  definitely  accepted 
relation  between  the  soul  and  Him — these  are  the 


38  THOUGHT  AND  ACTION 

Christian  fundamentals.  Christianity  has  vindi- 
cated the  rights  of  the  imagination  on  its  own 
account,  apart  from  its  outward  expression  ;  and 
insisted  that  a  man  may  lose  his  honour  and  re- 
spectability there,  without  going  farther  afield. 
Christ  amazed  his  contemporaries  by  the  value  He 
set  upon  the  life  of  vision  :  He  shifted  the  centre  of 
attention  from  outward  respectability  to  inward 
seeing  and  light. 

Christianity  finds  men  filling  their  minds  with 
sordid  thoughts  or  foul  imaginations  ;  others,  like 
the  prophet's  servant,  it  finds  seeing  only  enemies 
— impossibilities,  dangers,  anxieties,  discourage- 
ments, misunderstandings,  difficulties.  Both  alike 
are  blind,  and  to  both  alike  Christ's  Gospel  comes 
as  daylight.  The  wholesome  world  is  all  about  us, 
plain  and  normal  and  quiet.  The  sun  is  in  the 
heavens,  and  in  his  light  we  see  light  clearly. 
Looking  unto  Jesus  and  walking  in  His  light,  we 
are  no  longer  distracted  by  the  will-o'-the-wisps  of 
earth-bound  lusts,  the  swinging  lanterns  of  the 
opinions  of  others,  or  the  poor  candle  of  our  own 
mere  sense  of  duty.  Action  becomes  at  once  sure 
of  itself  and  glad  when  it  is  illuminated  by  vision. 
There  is  all  the  difference  in  the  world  between 
doing  that  which  we  have  seen  in  Jesus  Christ,  and 
blindly  doing  the  best  we  can. 


LOYALTY  TO  VISION 

St.  Paul's  retrospect. — Acts  xxvi.  19. 

St.  Paul's  career  as  a  Christian  began  in  two 
supreme  events — a  vision  and  a  commission.  To 
the  end  he  goes  back  to  them,  and  traces  their 
effect  upon  his  future,  telling  and  retelling  the 
story  of  his  conversion.  Yet  no  reader  of  his 
writings  can  fail  to  see  that  vision  blends  and 
alternates  with  action  throughout  his  course.  The 
Epistles  are  constantly  turning  from  marvellous 
lights  of  revelation  to  most  practical  directions  for 
living.  Thus  from  him  we  learn  loyalty  both  to 
past  and  present  light. 

1.  Loyalty  to  past  vision.  The  management  of 
thoughts  and  swift  imaginations  is  proverbially 
difficult,  and  there  is  much  disloyalty  to  the  visions 
of  the  past.  It  is  to  be  seen  in  literature,  and  it  is 
to  be  seen  in  speech  and  life ;  and  few  things  are 
sadder  than  to  watch  the  degeneration  of  lives 
whose  course  moves  from  light  to  darkness.  Some 
are  distracted  by  the  fascinating  and  various  spec- 
tacle  of  the  world :    others  are  seduced  by   the 

temptations  of  gain  and  popular  applause.     It  is 

(39) 


40  LOYALTY  TO  VISION 

all  too  easy  to  live  by  a  light  lower  than  one's 
highest ;  and  the  lights  of  life  go  out  one  by  one  as 
we  descend. 

We  have  all  caught  sight,  at  one  time  or  other, 
of  high  ideals,  and  many  of  us  can  remember  a  time 
when  we  saw  Christ  in  His  beauty.  "  Loyalty  to 
such  vision  is  the  chief  source  of  strength  and 
satisfaction  in  a  man's  life."  The  light  of  life  is 
necessarily  fluctuating.  Apart  from  anything  for 
which  we  are  responsible,  we  are  so  constituted 
as  to  live  in  a  constant  change  and  flux  both  of 
moods  and  of  intellectual  and  spiritual  powers. 
Such  changes  depend  on  bodily  health,  surround- 
ing circumstances,  and  countless  other  causes 
which  we  cannot  wholly  command.  Accordingly 
it  will  often  happen  that  we  have  to  remember 
what  we  have  once  seen,  and  to  carry  out  the 
resolutions  which  then  we  formed.  These  resolu- 
tions are  no  longer  glowing  in  the  light  of  recent 
vision.  They  are  cold  and  dead  sometimes,  and  we 
no  longer  feel  their  urgency.  We  may  even  be 
tempted  to  think  that  we  exaggerated  the  worth 
and  necessity  of  them,  and  to  say  to  ourselves  that 
the  effort  is  not  worth  while.  Of  course  all  this  is 
still  more  dangerous  when  our  own  backsliding 
has  brought  about  the  change  of  mood. 

In  such  an  hour  idleness  is  fatal.  If  we  cannot 
see  to  do  the  highest  things,  let  us  at  least  do 
something.      "  If   the   energy,   the   clearness,   the 


LOYALTY  TO  VISION  41 

power  of  intuition,  is  flagging  in  us,  if  we  cannot 
do  our  best  work,  still  let  us  do  what  we  can — 
for  we  can  always  do  something  ...  if  not  vivid  and 
spiritual  work,  then  the  plain  needful  drudgery." 
But  besides  that  there  is  often  the  necessity  for 
dogged  perseverance  in  a  course  whose  value  we 
can  no  longer  see.  If  it  seem  irrational,  then  we 
must  leave  reason  alone  and  for  the  time  being  be 
merely  obstinate. 

.  .  .  Tasks  in  hours  of  insight  willed, 
Can  be  through  hours  of  gloom  fulfilled. 

Nay,  they  sometimes  must  be  so  fulfilled.  It  is  part 
of  loyalty  to  say  to  our  tempted  and  wavering  spirits 
that  "  Said  word  is  thrall,"  and  to  go  on  in  the  dark, 
faithful  to  the  tasks  we  set  ourselves  in  the  light. 
2.  Loyalty  to  present  vision. — The  grim  and 
cheerless  course  we  have  just  described  is  not, 
however,  the  normal  way  of  Christian  living. 
There  is  a  snare  in  trusting  to  the  past  too  much, 
and  striving  to  be  faithful  to  brilliant  spiritual 
experiences  which  are  no  longer  any  more  than 
memories.  The  Christian  ideal  is  loyalty  to  a 
vision  constantly  seen  at  the  time  of  action.  It 
may  be  necessary  sometimes  to  fight  to-day's  battle 
by  the  light  of  other  days,  but  as  a  rule  of  life  that 
is  unsatisfactory  and  insufiicient.  It  is  good  to 
remember  God's  grace  in  the  past,  and  to  recall 
His  promises  for  the  future,  but  it  is  better  to  have 
some  clear  vision  at  the  hour.     As  Constantine  saw 


42  LOYALTY  TO  VISION 

the  cross  on  the  field  of  battle,  so  we  should  see 
our  spiritual  help  and  backing  at  the  time  of  our 
practical  need. 

Nor  is  this  so  hopeless  a  matter  as  perhaps  it 
seems.  It  is  not  a  peculiar  faculty  preserved  only 
by  those  whose  natural  powers  of  imagination  are 
great,  or  whose  genius  for  the  spiritual  is  excep- 
tional. Eeligion  is  for  all  sorts  and  conditions  of 
men,  and  not  for  a  favoured  few ;  it  is  for  every 
day  of  a  man's  life,  and  not  for  red-letter  days  only. 
The  power  of  vision  may  be  increased  or  lessened, 
like  any  other  of  our  powers.  Such  dark  loyalty 
as  we  have  already  described,  when  a  man  is  ob- 
stinately faithful  to  an  ideal  which  for  the  moment 
has  ceased  to  attract  him,  will  certainly  lead 
towards  a  renewal  of  that  vision.  "Alacrity  and 
readiness  to  discern  spiritual  things  may  be  culti- 
vated "  ;  and  he  who  puts  forth  his  energy  and 
lives  to  the  full  stretch  of  his  spiritual  powers,  will 
find  that  "  with  every  advance  in  spiritual  growth 
come  greater  distinctness  of  vision,  finer  suscepti- 
bility to  spiritual  suggestions,  an  increased  power 
of  reading  spiritual  signs  and  indications,  and  a 
firmer  hold  on  spiritual  realities  ". 

The  conditions  of  such  recovery  and  increase  of 
vision  are  mainly  three.  Purity  is  of  course  es- 
sential, and  if  evil  thoughts  have  blurred  the  vision, 
these  must  be  got  rid  of.  Not  that  any  direct 
attack  will  expel  them  :  often  the  very  effort  and 


LOYALTY  TO  VISION  43 

attention   employed   in   combating  them   seem  to 
increase   their  vividness.     But   the  occupation  of 
the  mind  with  healthy  interests  will  drive  them  out 
to  make  room  for  better  company.     And  the  vision 
is  nearer  to  those  who  live  keenly,  with  delight  in  the 
wholesome  things  that  work  and  play  offer  them, 
than  to  those  who  stand  aloof  and  seek  for  light 
by  ascetic   withdrawal.     Peace  also    is   essential. 
Sometimes,   indeed,   the   vision   flashes   upon  the 
battle-field,  but  that  is  an  act  of  God   for  which 
we  can  make  little  arrangement.     But  when  life 
is  crowded  with  work  and  worry  it  is  sometimes 
possible  to  "have  courage  to  rest,"  and  it  is  not 
only  the  pure  heart  that  sees  God,  but  also  the 
quiet   heart.     And  patience  is  often  demanded   if 
we  would  see — the  patient  attendance  upon  that 
which  is  fine  and  good.     For  a  time  Christ  may 
seem  uninteresting  and  His  ideals  dull.     But  in 
reality  they  are  the  very  splendour  of  God,  and 
the  soul  that  seeks  shall  find.     There  are  stars  so 
distant  that  no  eye  can  see  them,  yet  the  photo- 
graphic telescope  pointed  steadily  to  that  field  of 
darkness  where   they  hide,   receives  their   infini- 
tesimal shafts  of  light,  and  their  images  are  seen 
upon  the  plate.     So,  though  the  night  be  dark,  the 
soul  that  turns  away  from  lower  things  and  resol- 
utely points  toward  Christ,  will  yet  see  the  image 
of  the  King  in  His  beauty,  and  behold  a  land  that 
is  very  far  off. 


CHRIST'S  LESSONS  IN  PRAYER 

"  Lord,  teach  us  to  pray." — Luke  ii.  1. 

The  disciples  had  all  prayed  many  times,  and  yet 
they  came  to  Jesus  with  this  request.  For  they 
were  not  satisfied  with  their  praying.  Their  hearts 
were  full  of  longings  for  which  they  could  not  find 
utterance,  and  the  silence  in  which  they  dwelt 
oppressed  them.  For  answer,  Jesus  began  by 
teaching  them  how  not  to  pray.  It  may  well  be, 
that  with  such  bad  examples  of  devotion  in  their 
synagogues  and  streets,  the  very  habits  of  devotion 
which  they  had  formed  were  hampering  them.  The 
request  itself  may  give  a  hint  of  this,  as  if  prayer 
were  an  art  which  might  be  taught  by  rules.  The 
Pharisees  were  past  masters  in  the  art  of  prayer, 
but,  in  Jesus'  sense,  they  knew  not  how  to  pray  at 
all.  For  prayer  is  not  an  art  but  a  spirit,  and  when 
it  has  become  an  art  it  has  ceased  to  be  prayer. 

The  immediate  answer  of  Jesus  was  the  Lord's 
Prayer,  and  its  first  words  gave  them  all  they  had 
asked.  ''Our  Father " — when  He  had  said  that  He 
had  taught  them  to  pray.     For  the  whole  secret  of 

(44) 


CHEIST'S  LESSONS  IN  PKAYEE  45 

prayer  is  the  artless  childlike  spirit,  with  its  sim- 
plicity, confidence,  and  love. 

In  the  first  petitions  He  guards  prayer  from  that 
selfishness  which  is  a  peculiar  danger  of  the  devo- 
tional life.  There  is  a  kind  of  devotion  which  is  so 
secretive  as  to  give  almost  a  suggestion  of  some- 
thing illicit,  and  against  that  subtle  error  His 
prayer  warns  them.  True,  He  told  them  to  pray  in 
secret  behind  closed  doors.  But  having  shut  the 
door  of  their  chamber  they  are  to  open  the  door  of 
their  heart  to  their  fellow-men  in  remembrance  and 
sympathy.  ''  Hallowed  be  Thy  name  " — and  with 
these  words  we  feel  ourselves  at  once  in  the  great 
congregation  of  those  that  worship.  A  vast  multi- 
tude, under  the  shelter  of  the  eternal  wings,  is  pray- 
ing along  with  us,  and  we  are  one  with  them  in  the 
communion  of  the  saints.  ''Thy  kingdom  come. 
Thy  will  be  done  on  earth  as  it  is  in  heaven  " — the 
words  reveal  the  multitude  of  those  that  labour. 
They  sound  the  call  of  the  morning,  and  the  hosts 
of  workers  go  forth  to  their  daily  toil,  as  we,  too, 
must  go.  Through  the  honest  work  of  the  world 
the  kingdom  of  God  is  coming  on  the  earth,  and  in 
heaven  they  are  working  too,  at  tasks  more  worthy. 
So  in  all  this  part  of  it,  the  prayer  breathes  the 
wholesome  spirit  of  the  common  life  of  man.  We 
are  out  among  our  fellows,  taking  part  in  the  mani- 
fold worship  and  labour  of  the  world. 

The  second  part  is  occupied  with  the  two  ideas 


46  CHEIST'S  LESSONS  IN  PRAYEE 

of  bread  and  sin.  The  daily  bread  tells  of  the 
whole  needs  of  the  bodily  life.  If  a  man  wakes 
hungry,  let  him  tell  God  the  thought  that  has 
thus  come  first.  Here  is  a  day  to  be  lived  through 
and  labour  waiting  to  be  done,  and  the  man  lifts 
his  heart  to  God  for  the  necessary  support  which 
will  carry  him  through  it.  But  the  next  thought 
is  of  yesterday.  Bread  was  given  them,  and  the 
strength  it  brought  was  used  for  sinning.  The  deep 
shame  of  that  betrayal  needs  forgiveness  ;  and  the 
necessary  consequence  is  plain,  that  the  forgiven 
must  forgive.  But  this  day  also  must  be  lived  out, 
and  yesterday's  failure  has  warned  us  of  its  danger. 
"  Lead  us  not  into  temptation,  but  deliver  us  from 
evil  " — was  Jesus  thinking  then  of  His  own  first 
temptation,  the  temptation  of  bread,  we  wonder? 
It  may  well  have  been  so,  and  there  are  few  of  us 
who  will  not  at  once  understand  His  far-reaching 
sympathy  with  us  in  this  dangerous  life  of  ours, 
when  we  hear  Him  teach  us  to  pray  for  bread 
without  temptation. 

The  Lord's  Prayer  was  not  given  as  a  ritual  or 
formula  of  prayer  to  be  superstitiously  repeated. 
It  was  not  even  given  as  in  any  exhaustive  sense  a 
"  model "  prayer,  for  much  is  omitted  from  it  which 
we  shall  often  need  to  ask.  It  is  rather  fundamental 
than  complete,  setting  for  us  on  the  one  hand  the 
broad  and  generous  spirit  of  sympathy  with  our 
fellows  and  their  life,  without  which  devotion  tends 


CHEIST'S  LESSONS  IN  PKAYEK  47 

to  self-indulgence  ;  and  on  the  other  hand  selecting 
the  elementary  needs  of  men,  bread  for  the  body 
and  purity  for  the  soul. 

That  was  his  immediate  answer,  but  he  gave 
them  two  other  answers  to  their  request.  His 
example  taught  them  to  pray.  As  they  followed 
Him  they  saw  that  He,  who  apparently  needed 
least,  yet  prayed  most  of  all  men.  Constantly  He 
retired  to  pray  upon  the  mountains,  and  all  the 
skylines  of  Palestine  were  marked  in  their  memory 
with  spots  where  He  had  knelt  in  prayer.  While 
they  were  toiling,  and  as  they  lay  down  to  rest 
after  a  toilsome  day,  they  would  many  a  time  re- 
member that  He  was  praying  for  them  then.  And 
that  remembrance  must  have  been  at  once  a  con- 
science and  a  safeguard.  It  was  a  conscience,  for  if 
he  must  pray,  so  surely  far  more  must  they  ;  and  the 
thought  of  His  prayerfulness  would  often  drag  them 
to  their  knees  when  the  flesh  was  weak  and  the  spirit 
weary.  But  it  was  also  a  safeguard.  The  Syrians 
speak  of  the  lamps  of  hermits  shining  through  the 
night  from  far  seen  hill-side  caves,  as  "  hands  folded 
in  prayer".  So  the  remembrance  of  the  Master, 
withdrawn  but  not  forgetting  them,  must  often  have 
made  the  day  feel  safe,  and  taken  its  terror  from 
the  darkness.  There  could  be  no  better  defence 
than  the  prayers  of  Jesus. 

But  the  greatest  answer  of  all  which  Jesus  gave 
to  that  request  lay  in  the  simple  fact  that  He  was 


48  CHKIST'S  LESSONS  IN  PEAYEE 

Himself.  There  are  some  of  our  friends  whose 
very  presence  is  an  influence  upon  us  towards  holy 
things.  In  their  company  we  feel  our  souls  drawn 
nearer  to  God,  and  we  desire  to  pray.  In  the  well- 
known  picture  of  Satan  watching  the  sleep  of 
Christ,  there  is  something  wistful  in  the  expression 
and  attitude  of  the  enemy,  as  if  even  over  the 
foulest  heart  the  Saviour  had  cast  His  spell.  And 
the  disciples  found  that  as  they  lived  with  Jesus 
they  turned  instinctively  toward  God.  Every  hour 
of  His  company  taught  them  to  pray.  He  brought 
them  to  their  best,  and  wakened  all  their  slumber- 
ing desires  after  God  and  holiness. 

All  these  answers  to  the  disciples'  request  re- 
main. The  Lord's  Prayer  is  upon  our  lips,  with  its 
wide  and  generous  spirit,  and  its  petitions  for 
fundamental  needs.  His  own  prayers  are  still  for 
us  also  a  conscience  and  a  defence.  But  most  of 
all,  by  being  what  He  is,  He  lifts  the  heart  of  the 
world  for  ever  towards  its  God.  No  one  can  face 
the  thought  of  Jesus  without  aspiring  towards 
better  things.  To  remember  Him  is  to  seek  after 
God. 


PEEPARATION  FOE  THE  BEST 

{First  Sunday  in  Lent) 

"A  people  prepared  for  the  Lord." — Luke  i.  17. 

When  we  speak  of  preparing  ourselves  for  the 
future,  we  commonly  think  of  some  coming  evil. 
Life  is,  in  our  familiar  and  apposite  metaphor,  a 
campaign ;  and  "  it  is  usual  in  war  for  the  guns  and 
the  sentinels  always  to  face  towards  the  enemy 
however  far  off  he  maybe  ".  There  is  an  instinctive 
sense  of  enemies  in  this  mortal  life  of  ours,  and 
every  day  looks  forward  more  or  less  anxiously  to 
its  to-morrow.  Men  have  so  generally  acknow- 
ledged this  state  of  matters  that  there  are  few 
vaunts  which  have  a  more  honourable  sound  to  our 
ears  than  the  old  Latin  one  in  utrumque  paratiis. 
Yet  the  phrase  is  sad.  Its  readiness  for  either  fate 
suggests  alertness,  but  has  a  certain  desolate  sug- 
gestion also  :  it  acknowledges  the  possibility  of  the 
better  chance,  but  it  somehow  seems  to  expect  the 
worse. 

So  it  comes  to  pass  that  we  are  far  more  seldom 
ready  for  the  better  than  for  the  worse  event. 
Preparedness  for  the  best  things  is  rare,  because  we 

(49)  4 


50  PKEPAEATION  FOE  THE  BEST 

do  not  realize  that  they  need  preparation,  and  con- 
centrate our  attention  in  steeling  ourselves  against 
possible  adversity.  By  so  doing  we  miss  many  of 
life's  highest  opportunities,  and  find  our  gain  turn 
to  loss.  Many  a  man  is  prepared  for  misfortune  but 
not  for  prosperity.  Defeat  would  have  found  him 
brave  and  patient,  victory  makes  him  overbearing 
and  selfish.  Loss  would  have  drawn  out  his  nobler 
qualities  of  industry  and  determination ;  wealth 
corrupts  him  with  selfishness  and  luxurious  indul- 
gence and  display. 

The  same  thing  happens  in  religion.  Many  a 
Parsifal  is  able  to  combat  and  unhorse  his  enemy, 
and  yet  is  stupefied  and  blunders  irretrievably  when 
he  sees  the  vision  of  the  Holy  Grail.  Many  an 
adventurer  like  Jacob  looks  back  ruefully  upon  an 
hour  of  far-reaching  promise  and  spiritual  opportun- 
ity, saying  ''  Surely  God  was  in  this  place  and  I  knew 
it  not ".  The  world,  in  the  beginning  of  the  first 
century,  was  adjusting  itself  to  Augustus  as  best  it 
might ;  but  when  Christ  came,  the  world  knew  Him 
not.  We  are  often  prepared  to  meet  the  devil :  to 
meet  our  God  we  are  not  prepared. 

In  the  Church  Year  the  great  events  of  the  Chris- 
tian story  group  themselves  into  a  cluster  from 
Palm  Sunday  to  Whitsunday,  breaking  the  routine 
of  the  daily  life  with  the  splendid  memories  of 
Christ's  passion  and  resurrection  and  the  coming  of 
the  Holy  Spirit.     It  is  fitting  that  before  this  season 


PEEPAEATION  FOE  THE  BEST  51 

the  Church  should  have  set  apart  a  prior  season  of 
special  preparation.  It  is  true  that  the  coming  of 
the  Lord  is  not  confined  to  any  set  occasions,  and 
that  the  only  true  preparation  for  it  is  the  quiet, 
constant  daily  preparation.  Thomas  a  Kempis 
wisely  says  :  ''He  that  prepareth  not  himself,  except 
only  when  a  festival  draweth  near,  or  when  custom 
compelleth  him  thereunto,  shall  too  often  be  unpre- 
pared ".  Yet  it  is  wise  to  let  the  season  remind  us 
yearly  of  our  holiest  things,  and  undoubtedly  those 
who  by  the  exercise  of  recollection  have  prepared 
themselves,  are  most  likely  to  see  and  recognize 
the  Lord  when  they  meet  Him. 

Tennyson's  lines  are  singularly  appropriate  to 
such  a  season  : — 

How  pure  at  heart  and  sound  in  head, 
With  what  divine  affections  bold 
Should  be  the  man  whose  thought  would  hold 

An  hour's  communion  with  the  dead. 

No  words  could  more  exhaustively  express  their 
thought.  But  they  are  still  more  appropriate  to 
a  season  of  communion  with  the  Living  God,  as 
He  is  revealed  in  the  events  which  the  Church  will 
soon  be  commemorating. 

First,  there  is  the  preparation  of  the  purification 
of  the  heart.  All  meditation  leads  that  way  at 
once.  There  is  much  to  be  forgiven  before  we  can 
hope  to  understand  and  triumph,  and  there  is 
much  also  to  be  changed.     It  is  only  the  pure  in 


52  PREPAEATION  FOR  THE  BEST 

heart  who  can  by  any  means  see  God,  and  the  evil 
habits  of  thought,  imagination,  and  desire  must  be 
searched  out  and  put  away.  What  softness  and 
self-indulgence,  what  malice  and  resentment,  what 
harshness  and  cruelty  still  linger  in  us  all !  How 
unwilling  we  are  to  understand  the  mind  of  Christ ; 
how  selfish  and  greedy  of  pleasure,  how  determined 
in  our  demand  for  our  own  way.  But  here  is  a 
great  opportunity  and  call  to  return  back  to  the 
simplicity  of  little  children,  to  cast  ourselves  at  the 
outset  before  the  Cross,  and  eagerly  to  consent  to 
the  cleansing  fires  of  conscience  and  the  love  of 
Christ. 

But  there  is  also  much  to  understand,  and  com- 
munion with  God  along  the  channels  of  the  central 
beliefs  of  Christendom  implies  much  reflection. 
The  conventionalities  of  daily  life  have  put  our 
thoughts  out  of  proportion  and  perspective.  Its 
facile  acquiescences  have  dulled  our  power  of  judg- 
ing and  distinguishing.  Its  false  emphasis  has 
subverted  our  sense  of  truth.  Its  unwholesome 
moods  have  poisoned  our  views  of  many  things. 
Its  fuss  and  crowding  have  distracted  and  confused 
us.  Minds  in  such  a  condition  are  in  no  sense 
competent  for  the  highest  thoughts.  It  requires  a 
season  of  aloofness,  of  as  much  silence  and  peace 
as  life  will  allow,  and  of  honest  and  laborious 
thinking  and  recollection  of  the  scattered  faculties, 
before  we  are  fit  to  meet  our  God  in  communion. 


PEEPAEATION  FOE  THE  BEST  53 

There  is  nothing  which  the  present  generation  needs 
so  much  as  discipline  of  the  mind  for  serious  think- 
ing. The  dimness  of  faith,  and  the  consequent 
feebleness  of  religious  life,  are  to  be  cured  mainly 
by  studying  afresh  the  thoughts  of  really  great 
thinkers,  and  by  persistently  setting  the  attention 
and  holding  it  set  in  the  direction  of  the  central 
truths. 

But  there  is  also  necessary  the  boldness  of  divine 
affections.  We  all  admit  that  the  world  is,  one 
way  or  another,  too  much  with  us.  Preparation, 
therefore,  must  include  the  practice  of  looking  be- 
yond the  world,  and  carrying  up  our  thoughts  and 
feelings  to  God  himself.  But  it  requires  daring  to 
train  our  eyes  on  the  Divine,  and  none  but  the 
courageous  in  heart  will  succeed  in  doing  it.  For 
the  affections  that  are  to  find  God  in  Christ  must 
travel  along  the  two  lines  of  our  worst  and  of  our 
best. 

Let  us  offer  to  Him  our  worst,  and  dare  to  face 
the  worst  that  we  may  offer  it,  crying  to  Him  from 
the  depths.  It  is  a  sorry  offering,  of  the  wreckage 
of  broken  resolutions  and  desires  that  have  been  in 
the  slime  of  earthliness,  and  love  that  has  wandered 
and  comes  half-heartedly  back  to  faithfulness  to 
Him.  This  is,  indeed,  the  only  place  where  such  an 
offering  has  any  value  set  upon  it.  No  other  than 
God  would  accept  such  things,  and  it  requires  a 
courageous  faith  to  bring  them.     Yet  the  courage 


64  PEEPAEATION  FOR  THE  BEST 

will  be  abundantly  rewarded.  There  is  no  aspect 
of  the  glory  of  the  Lord  so  brilliant  as  the  glory 
of  God  the  Saviour  seen  from  the  depths  of  shame. 
There  is  no  beauty  that  can  compare  with  the 
beauty  of  Christ  seen  through  tears  of  penitence. 

And  no  less  courage  is  demanded  for  the  offering 
of  our  best  to  God.  In  the  discouragement  of  con- 
trition we  are  apt  to  disbelieve  in  any  loftiness  or 
greatness  that  we  may  ever  have  seen  in  life.  Yet 
life  is  good  and  great  in  spite  of  us  and  our  failure, 
and  we  have  not  surrendered  our  heritage  in  its 
nobilities.  However  far  we  have  come  short  of 
realizing  it,  the  ideal  self  still  floats  before  our 
aspirations,  and  calls  us  upward.  Let  us  offer  to 
God  the  manhood  we  would  fain  achieve,  the  in- 
termittent but  genuine  longings  after  holy  things, 
the  attempts  to  do  right  and  play  the  man  in  diffi- 
cult circumstances. 

In  a  word,  let  us  face  and  fully  recognize  both 
our  weakness  and  our  strength,  our  worst  and  our 
best.  Let  us  bring  them  both,  a  strange  offering 
of  contrasts,  to  His  feet ;  that,  in  our  communion 
with  Him,  His  power  and  His  love  may  go  out  upon 
them  both,  and  recreate  us  after  His  image. 


THE  PEEPAEATION  OF  WORDS 

{Second  Sunday  in  Lent) 

"  Take  with  you  words." — Hosea  xiv.  2. 

This  text  at  first  sight  appears  startlingly  defective 
as  a  guide  to  men  who  would  approach  their  God. 
Micah  speaks  otherwise — "  What  doth  the  Lord  re- 
quire of  thee,  but  to  do  justly,  and  to  love  mercy, 
and  to  walk  humbly  with  thy  God  ?  ".  In  the  fifty- 
eighth  chapter  of  Isaiah  we  have  a  still  more 
elaborate  demand  for  various  services  toward  the 
unfortunate,  as  the  only  terms  on  which  God  will 
consent  to  man's  approach.  But  here  we  read. 
Take  with  you — words  ! 

Our  heart  sinks  as  we  read  it.  The  world  is  all 
deaf  and  stupefied  with  speaking.  ''  It  is  the  word 
too  much  which  wrecks  the  majority  of  human 
schemes."  We  know  too  well  the  futility  of  lan- 
guage to  express  the  deepest  things.  Words  are 
so  constantly  misunderstood,  and  further  words 
of  explanation  are  so  useless  to  remove  the  mis- 
understandings. Especially  is  this  true  of  religion, 
where  language  has  been  one  of  the  worst  enemies 

of  faith,  cramping,  falsifying,  and  embittering  man's 

(56) 


66  THE  PEEPAEATION  OF  WOEDS 

thoughts  of  God.  Silence  is  not  only  "  the  fortress 
of  the  strong/'  it  is  often  the  best  language  of  the 
devout.  What  would  the  Apostle  James  say  to 
this,  with  his  scathing  sarcasm  against  those  who 
gave  words  where  deeds  were  required?  Nay, 
what  did  the  Master  say  concerning  those  who 
imagined  they  would  be  heard  for  their  much 
speaking  ? 

And  yet  what  an  emancipation  is  here !  The 
nation  was  anxious  in  those  days  before  the  fall  of 
Samaria.  Distracted  people  were  turning  to  idols, 
to  the  ritual  of  sacrifice,  to  the  help  of  puppet- 
kings,  to  alliances  with  Assyria  and  with  Egypt. 
The  greedy  gods  of  the  heathen  were  demanding 
offerings  of  gold,  and  hideous  deaths  of  children ; 
and  superstitious  Israelites  were  thinking  that 
Jehovah,  too,  must  be  appeased  in  some  such  costly 
fashion.  Words !— by  their  very  worthlessness 
they  mark  the  sublime  contrast  between  this 
God  and  all  other  gods.  This  is  the  proclama- 
tion of  free  grace,  long  before  the  coming  of  Jesus. 
Already  the  prophet's  heart  was  crying,  ''  Nothing 
in  my  hands  I  bring".  The  whole  Gospel  of  Christ 
is  here,  and  the  marrow  of  Reformation  theology. 
He  who  brings  only  words,  if  they  be  the  right 
ones,  has  performed  the  great  act  of  faith.  "  For 
the  Lord,"  as  Thomas  h  Kempis  says,  "  bestoweth 
His  blessings  there  where  He  findeth  His  vessels 
empty." 


THE  PKEPAKATION  OF  WORDS  57 

Men  are  to-day  wondering  what  it  is  to  be  a 
Christian,  and  asking  anxiously  what  it  is  that 
God  really  wants  from  them.  This  is  all  that  He 
requires,  and  most  people,  thinking  that  some  great 
thing  is  wanted,  bring  too  much.  He  wants  words, 
and  to  consent  to  that  demand  is  the  only  way  in 
which  we  can  show  a  whole-hearted  trust  in  His 
generous  and  fatherly  love.  There  are  words, 
which,  if  we  could  but  find  and  speak  them,  would 
wholly  satisfy  the  demand  of  God.  Ah,  those  un- 
f ound,  unspoken  words  of  faith  and  penitence  !  the 
whole  chance  of  our  religious  life  lies  in  them.  So 
the  saying  of  the  prophet  stirs  up  our  wistfulness 
and  curiosity  about  that  hidden  language,  and  we 
reverse  the  familiar  text  and  cry,  "  I  would  speak 
what  God  the  Lord  will  hear  ". 

In  one  aspect  the  command  suggests  something 
in  the  nature  of  a  liturgy.  Though  the  words  may 
be  our  own,  yet  they  are  to  be  "  taken  with  us  ". 
Words  are  all  that  are  asked  for,  yet  evidently 
they  are  to  be  choice  words,  the  best  that  we  can 
bring. 

No  one  will  dispute  the  value  of  the  great 
liturgies,  in  which  worship  and  aspiration  have 
clothed  themselves  according  to  their  nature  in 
fitting  language.  The  Psalter,  the  liturgies  of  the 
Eastern  and  Western  Churches,  of  the  Church  of 
England,  of  John  Knox,  have  guided,  dignified, 
and  made  effective  the  worship  of  saints  for  two 


58  THE  PEEPAEATION  OF  WOKDS 

thousand  years.  They  admonish  us  as  to  careful- 
ness in  the  expression  of  our  devotions,  for  those 
liturgies  are  the  living  needs  of  men  worthily  ex- 
pressed. The  only  way  to  defend  ourselves  against 
bad  ways  of  expression  is  to  cultivate  good  ones 
carefully.  We  are  in  danger  of  slovenliness  and 
irreverence  for  want  of  thoughtful  preparation. 

Nor  is  it  mere  decency  that  is  demanded.  Our 
best  thought,  our  most  beautiful  imagination,  should 
have  place  in  the  ordered  and  chastened  utterance. 
Above  all,  there  is  need  for  definiteness  of  ideas, 
and  clearness  in  their  expression.  The  words 
must  not  distract  us,  tempting  us  to  linger  on  their 
beauty  or  to  depreciate  the  value  of  speech  by  ex- 
aggeration, or  to  lose  their  meaning  by  multiplying 
them.  A  few  words  will  usually  suffice,  but  let  us 
be  sure  that  we  know  what  they  mean.  We  have 
all  often  uttered  meaningless  generalities  like  the 
request  that  God  would  "  bless  "  us.  Such  prayers 
led  to  nothing,  and  that  was  not  surprising.  No 
little  child  asks  his  father  to  bless  him.  He  knows 
what  he  wants,  and  he  asks  for  that.  So  let  us 
first  take  time  to  say  to  our  own  souls  what  we 
have  to  say  to  God,  that  our  prayers  may  be  intel- 
ligible speech,  and  not  vain  repetition. 

Thus,  while  the  first  impression  of  the  text  is 
liturgical,  the  very  fact  that  clearness  is  demanded 
leads  us  away  from  formality  in  ritual.  The 
words  desired  cannot  be  a  formula  that  excludes 


THE  PKEPAEATION  OF  WORDS  59 

other  expression.  Principal  G.  A.  Smith,  in  a  very 
striking  passage,  contrasts  the  prayer  of  Hosea 
XIV.  with  that  of  Hosea  vi.  The  latter,  for  all 
its  beauty,  is  a  rejected  prayer.  It  is  too  artistic, 
too  consciously  laboured,  not  sufficiently  spontane- 
ous. But  this  prayer  rings  true,  and  it  is  answered. 
It  is  not  the  composition  of  a  poet,  but  the  out- 
pouring of  a  conscience  and  a  heart. 

That  is  the  one  great  rule  of  guidance — say  what 
you  have  to  say.  Do  not  exaggerate  your  experi- 
ence, nor  pose  before  your  God,  nor  try  to  put 
yourself  into  a  religious  attitude.  Speak  what 
words  are  natural  and  true,  and  no  others.  Say 
that  you  are  glad,  and  life  is  good  and  full  of  love ; 
or  say,  "  Thy  ways  seem  cruel  to  me,  and  the  pres- 
sure of  Thy  hand  too  hard  ".  Say  "  Oh  Lord,  I  love 
Thee,  yet  I  love  Thee  not "  ;  "  Lord,  I  believe,  help 
Thou  mine  unbelief".  Say,  if  you  must,  ''Except  I 
see  in  His  hands  the  print  of  the  nails,  I  will  not 
believe  ".  It  may  be  daring,  it  may  be  very  foolish, 
but  if  it  be  the  true  thing,  say  what  you  have  to 
say.  For  God  knows  how  to  deal  with  honest 
speech ;  and  words  truly  spoken  will  take  on  their 
real  meaning,  which  the  speaker  may  not  know,  in 
His  understanding. 

Some  of  your  words  will  be  silenced,  doubtless, 
for  we  know  not  what  we  should  pray  for  as  we 
ought.  Others  will  be  "punctuated  and  made 
sense  of,"  finding  their  true  meaning.     Others  will 


60  THE  PEEPAEATION  OF  WORDS 

be  accepted  and  answered  as  they  stand.  And 
new  words  will  be  given  you.  ''Christ  .  .  .  had 
the  power  of  not  merely  saying  beautiful  things 
Himself,  but  of  making  other  people  say  beautiful 
things  to  Him."  Every  honest  prayer  teaches  us 
to  pray  better  and  more  wisely.  For  God,  listen- 
ing in  compassion  to  the  broken  voices  of  men,  not 
only  tolerates  the  singing,  but  puts  a  new  song  in 
their  mouth. 


THE  POWER  OF  WORDS 

{Third  Sunday  in  Lent) 
"  Take  with  you  words." — Hosea  xiv.  2. 

Words  are  often  supposed  to  be  futile  things,  and 
contrasted  with  deeds.  It(  was  Carlyle  who  identi- 
fied the  two,  "  Cast  forth  thy  Act,  thy  Word,  into 
the  ever-living,  ever-working  universe" :  and  indeed  if 
they  be  the  genuine  expressions  of  the  truth,  they 
are  never  futile,  but  always  charged  with  vital 
energy.  Dr.  Denney  has  said  regarding  St.  Paul's 
exhortation,  ''comfort  one  another  with  these 
words"  that  here  the  Apostle  is  balancing  the 
greatest  sorrow  of  life  against  words,  but  then  they 
are  words  of  eternal  life.  Even  the  words  which 
a  man  may  speak  are  often  of  the  highest  value. 
So  valuable  are  they  that  a  man  may  set  up  his 
barrier  of  words  between  himself  and  such  tre- 
mendous forces  as  the  power  of  the  grave  and  the 
terrors  of  conscience.  Such  words  are  not  the 
alternative  to  character  but  the  expression  of  char- 
acter ;  nay,  they  are  part  of  what  forms  character 
and  fixeg  it. 

(61) 


62  THE  POWEK  OF  WOKDS 

Three  things  are  manifest  as  to  the  power  of 
words  in  our  religious  experience. 

1.  What  they  imply — a  vieiv  of  mter course  with 
God. — Hosea  has  idolatry  in  mind  as  he  writes 
this  chapter,  and  the  superstitious  ritual  of  Israel's 
temple-worship.  The  two  had  this  in  common  that 
they  were  founded  on  a  non-rational  conception  of 
worship.  The  worshipper  had  in  neither  case  any 
clear  idea  of  the  meaning  of  the  service  he  per- 
formed. Indeed  it  was  characteristic  of  Semitic 
thought  that  such  ideas  were  not  necessary  in  the 
least.  What  was  required  was  the  performance  of 
certain  acts  and  the  giving  of  certain  offerings. 
Why  these  were  required,  who  could  tell  ?  It  was 
simply  part  of  the  accepted  tradition  that  such 
things  should  be  done ;  and,  once  performed,  there 
was  the  end  of  the  matter.  Further  questioning 
was  undesirable,  and  perhaps  even  profane.  The 
god  who  could  prescribe  and  accept  such  worship 
was,  so  far  as  his  intercourse  with  men  went, 
essentially  irrational.  Either  he  was  incapable  of 
rational  intercourse,  a  mere  mass  of  prejudices 
backed  by  supernatural  powers  ;  or  he  was  un- 
willing for  it,  holding  himself  apart  from  his 
creatures  in  a  haughty  superiority  which  demanded 
homage,  but  despised  them  too  thoroughly  to  be 
further  interested  in  their  affairs. 

But  here  was  a  new  conception  of  God.  He 
cared  not  for  mysteries  but   for   meanings.      He 


THE  POWEE  OF  WOEDS  63 

called  them  back  from  formalities  to  the  simplicity 
and  reality  of  speech.  He  wanted  not  to  hear 
them  repeating  formulae,  but  saying  what  they  had 
to  say.  When  men  worship  God,  rational  beings 
are  in  communion,  and  worship  is  the  converse  of 
mind  with  mind.  This  is  a  God  who  can  be  spoken 
with,  and  from  whom  men  may  count  on  an  in- 
telligent and  patient  hearing.  With  such  a  God 
simplicity  and  sincerity  are  easy,  for  we  are  sure 
of  being  understood.  Therefore  awe  must  not  rob 
us  of  trust  and  of  directness.  For  our  w^orship  we 
should  indeed  prej)are  ourselves  by  selecting  our 
choicest  thoughts  ;  but  we  should  bring  to  God 
also  our  worst  and  most  deplorable,  nay  even  our 
most  casual  and  unimportant.  For  this  is  not  a 
recitation,  it  is  an  intercourse. 

2.  What  tvorcls  reveal — the  truth  about  oneself. — 
It  is  for  want  of  bringing  our  secret  life  to  expres- 
sion that  we  are  so  often  self-deceived.  All  idol- 
worshippers  and  mere  performers  of  a  religious 
office,  come  back  from  their  devotions  with  their 
illusions  undispelled.  Those  who  would  leave  their 
illusions  behind  them  must  take  with  them  words. 
For  it  is  our  own  words  that  we  have  to  bring,  the 
words  that  have  first  been  ''  spoken  in  the  inner 
man  ". 

Thus  speech  is  an  ordeal,  and  the  command  of 
the  text  implies  self-examination.  What  words 
shall  we  take  ?     What  have  we   to   bring  ?    The 


64  THE  POWEE  OF  WOEDS 

answer  will  reveal  what  words  are  natural  to  us, 
and  so  will  be  a  test  of  our  growth  or  declension  in 
the  life  of  the  spirit.  When  we  try  to  state  to  our- 
selves what  we  are  and  what  we  desire  most,  we 
shall  find  startling  revelations.  Many  states  of 
mind  are  tolerable  only  until  they  are  plainly  and 
definitely  expressed.  The  expression  will  reveal 
the  wealth  or  poverty  of  what  we  have  to  say, 
of  what  our  hearts  want  to  say,  and  so  will  reveal 
what  has  been  happening  in  us.  Some  will  find 
themselves  utter  strangers  in  the  spiritual  region  ; 
others  will  move  in  it  as  men  walking  in  their  home 
fields.  When  you  come  to  words,  you  will  at  least 
know  where  you  are. 

3.  What  they  effect — a  transformation  of  character, 
— For  this  act  of  worship  has  the  power  not  only  of 
revealing  but  of  forming  character.  Words  mark 
the  point  of  change  from  the  unpractical  to  the 
practical. 

In  our  inner  life  much  is  necessarily  vague,  con- 
sisting of  confused  masses  of  feeling,  embryonic 
forms  of  thoughts,  broken  ends  of  ideas  hanging 
loose.  Some  of  these  must,  of  course,  be  left 
vague,  for  it  will  be  impossible  to  find  language 
to  express  them.  Yet  some  are  waiting  for  ex- 
pression to  render  them  immediately  effective.  To 
say  a  thing  which  we  have  hitherto  only  thought  or 
half-thought,  is  to  give  it  the  force  of  a  part  of  our 


THE  POWEE  OF  WOKDS  65 

active  life,  to  put  it  in  a  position  to  tell  definitely 
upon  conduct.  Literary  critics  are  familiar  with 
the  reaction  of  style  upon  thought,  and  no  writer 
who  wishes  to  produce  results  can  afford  to  neglect 
his  style.  Similarly  we  should  all  regard  as  an  im- 
portant and  momentous  act  the  expression  in  lan- 
guage of  our  thoughts.  If  the  words  we  find  for 
that  expression  are  exact— choice  words,  chosen 
not  for  their  eloquence  but  for  their  clearness  and 
accuracy — we  may  look  for  results  in  character  and 
conduct.  When  the  images  of  the  imagination  are 
focused,  and  our  estimate  of  self,  our  sense  of  sin, 
and  our  feeling  of  need  are  clearly  perceived,  action 
is  sure  to  follow.  There  is  more  in  the  idea  of 
''  making  phrases  like  swords  "  than  a  fine  figure 
of  speech.  In  literal  truth  "  Bright  is  the  ring  of 
words,"  and  a  spirit  that  has  found  its  true  utter- 
ance will  be  irresistibly  urged  forward  towards 
conduct.  The  prodigal  in  the  story  had  spent  many 
days  and  nights  in  general  ideas  of  repentance, 
desire,  and  intention  that  came  to  nothing.  At  last 
he  found  the  words  "  I  will  arise  and  go,"  and  the 
words  brought  immediate  action — he  arose  and 
went. 

Thus  religious  utterance  is  one  of  the  great  forces 
that  lead  to  right  action.  It  is  in  the  dreamy 
brooding  silence,  when  we  know  not  what  we  do, 
that  we  idle  and  sin.     When  we  begin  to  stir  our 

5 


66  THE  POWER  OF  WOEDS 

minds,  to  think  clear-edged  thoughts  and  pass  de- 
finite judgments  of  right  and  wrong  and  to  pro- 
nounce these  judgments  in  speech,  our  will  leaps 
forward  at  the  sound  of  the  word,  and  makes  for 
righteousness. 


EAST  AND  WEST 

{Fourth  Sunday  in  Lent) 

'■'•  As  far  as  the  east  is  from  the  west,  so  far  hath  He  removed 
our  transgressions  from  us." — Psalm  cm.  12. 

This  Psalm  is  one  of  exceptional  exaltation.  It 
combines  the  ideas  of  greatness  and  splendour  so 
as  to  give  a  sense  of  magnificence  all  through,  and 
it  blends  with  this  an  exquisite  and  delicate  tender- 
ness. It  is  natural  that  such  a  Psalm  should  have 
the  question  of  sin  in  the  heart  of  it.  Until  that 
question  has  been  faced  and  answered,  neither  the 
magnificence  nor  the  tenderness  of  God  can  be 
clear.  Sin  is  the  intrusion  of  sordidness  upon  life, 
the  stain  upon  the  royal  garment  of  God.  It  is  the 
harsh  voice  of  ill-will  and  bitterness  breaking 
through  the  sweet  music  of  love  in  homes  and 
hearts. 

Every  one  who  knows  himself  or  who  knows  life 
at  all  has  to  reckon  with  the  fact  of  sin.  In  quiet 
times,  when  all  is  sleeping,  it  may  slumber;  but 
whenever  any  part  of  human  nature  wakens  to 
intense  consciousness,  it  wakens.     In  the  past  it 

(67) 


68  EAST  AND  WEST 

lies,  a  dead  weight  of  fact  beyond  our  reach.  For 
the  future  it  is  "  only  a  question  of  time  ;  either 
you  will  overcome  sin  or  sin  will  overcome  you  ". 
Pride  may  separate  a  man  from  sin,  but  his  mood 
will  change  and  he  will  sacrifice  pride  to  indulgence. 
Time  and  forgetfulness  may  seem  to  leave  it  on  the 
farther  side  of  a  great  gulf  fixed  between  it  and  our 
present  life.  But  sin  can  overleap  that  distance, 
and  in  a  moment  be  at  our  conscience  and  our  heart 
across  a  lifetime  of  intervening  years.  One  stroke 
of  memory,  one  siren-note  of  temptation  wakening 
long-forgotten  echoes  of  old  days,  and  the  gulf  is 
crossed,  and  all  to  reckon  with  again. 

But  when  God  enters  amid  the  tumult  of  fear 
and  hope,  of  desire  and  renunciation,  all  is  changed. 
For  the  past  He  brings  forgiveness,  the  mightiest 
proof  of  love.  For  the  future,  ''  God  has  seen  the 
saint  in  the  sinner,"  and  what  He  has  seen,  the 
world  will  yet  see.  Then  comes  the  supreme 
moment  in  a  man's  experience,  the  sudden  flight  of 
sin  beyond  the  farthest  horizon.  ''  A  Greek  poet 
implies,"  says  Lytton,  ''  that  the  height  of  bliss  is 
the  sudden  relief  from  pain ;  there  is  a  nobler  bliss 
still,  the  rapture  of  the  conscience  at  the  sudden 
release  from  a  guilty  thought." 

We  are  not  accustomed  to  so  complete  a  dealing, 
and  the  Bible  seems  almost  to  exhaust  language 
in  expressing  it.  We  are  so  accustomed  to  tinker- 
ing with  sin,  to  half-repentances  and  compromise 


EAST  AND  WEST  69 

and  recurrence,  that  few  of  our  moral  battles  are 
fought  out  to  a  finish  and  the  field  cleared  from 
the  outposts  of  the  enemy.  So  the  colours  are 
glaring — ''  crimson  and  scarlet,"  "  white  as  snow  ". 
God  is  seen  "coming  over  the  mountains  of  our 
transgressions,"  and  casting  them  "  into  the  depths 
of  the  sea  ".  And  in  this  passage  East  and  West 
stand  for  a  corresponding  sense  of  extreme  distance 
that  is  meant  to  tax  the  imagination.  The  imagina- 
tive power  and  stretch  of  the  appeal  are  seen  along 
two  lines. 

1.  Geogrriphical. — Geographically,  East  and  West 
were  the  extreme  points  of  known  distance.  It 
was  in  the  temperate  zone  of  the  northern  hemi- 
sphere that  history  began  and  civilization  spread. 
Accordingly  the  stretch  of  ancient  geography  was 
wider  between  East  and  West  than  between  North 
and  South,  and  the  ancient  maps  of  the  world  were 
oblong.  As  thought  travelled  Westward  it  saw  the 
dim  coasts  and  islands  of  the  Mediterranean,  and 
perhaps  the  mountain  of  Teneriffe  in  the  farthest 
distance.  As  it  travelled  Eastward,  it  passed 
through  the  ring  of  neighbouring  nations  across  the 
Jordan  ;  saw  the  wandering  encampments  of  desert 
tribes ;  then  Mesopotamia,  with  Nineveh  and 
Babylon  guarding  its  rivers  ;  then  the  mountains 
of  Persia,  and  the  dream-like  lands  of  India  and 
China  beyond.  At  the  utmost  limits,  mountain- 
pillars  upheld  the  world,  or  the  edge  of  its  oval 


70  EAST  AND  WEST 

disc  fell  sheer  into  the  waters  of  the  nether  deep 
upon  which  it  floated. 

One  can  realize  the  wonder  and  relief  of  such 
a  man  as  this  writer,  as  his  conscience  follows  his 
imagination  across  the  whole  enormous  breadth 
of  the  world.  There,  where  the  mountains  of  the 
dawn  or  sunset  hardly  break  the  skyline  with  their 
faint  and  shadowy  ranges — there,  over  the  edges  of 
the  flat  earth  where  all  things  end — there,  and  no 
nearer,  are  his  sins.  From  such  an  one  sin,  and  its 
wages  of  death,  are  indeed  very  far  away. 

Geographically,  science  seems  to  have  changed 
all  that.  For  a  long  time  travel  and  exploration 
increased  year  by  year  the  distance  between  East 
and  West,  flinging  out  the  horizon  line  farther  in 
each  direction.  Yet  in  doing  so  they  actually 
brought  them  together  by  their  discovery  that  the 
earth  is  round,  so  that  a  man  fleeing  across  the 
world  to  escape  his  sin  must  at  last  run  into  its 
arms.  And  that  is  a  curious  kind  of  allegory  of 
what  our  modern  thought  has  done  with  the  sense 
of  sin.  Apparently  it  has  removed  it.  It  has 
drawn  away  men's  attention  to  other  interests,  and 
it  has  relaxed  the  ancient  tension  of  conscience. 
Yet,  in  very  truth,  as  men  escape  from  sin  under 
the  guidance  of  scientific  theory,  they  rush  un- 
awares into  the  arms  of  their  sins  again. 

Natural  science  has  revealed  the  connexion  be- 
tween the   physical  and   the   moral   natures.     Its 


EAST  AND  WEST  71 

doctrines  of  evolution  and  heredity  tend  to  a  view 
of  sin  as  natural  tendency,  defective  or  excessive 
vitality,  a  hereditary  taint  of  blood.  While  at 
first  sight  these  explanations  seem  to  put  sin  away 
from  conscience,  yet  they  bring  it  infinitely  nearer 
too.  Instead  of  being  a  casual  or  isolated  product 
of  mere  independent  acts  of  will,  they  pronounce  it 
native,  and  part  of  the  necessary  system  of  things. 
With  all  its  ghastly  consequences  to  the  sinner  and 
to  others  about  him,  it  has  become  fixed  in  the 
iron  chain  of  cause  and  effect,  and  it  seems  idle  to 
talk  of  repentance  or  of  change  where  sin  begets 
sin  and  doom  leads  on  to  further  doom.  Nay 
further,  some  of  the  bolder  spirits,  starting  from  the 
ancient  aphorism  that  every  vice  is  but  the  exaggera- 
tion of  a  virtue,  tell  us  that  all  human  passions  and 
crimes  are  natural,  though  they  are  more  or  less  in 
conflict  with  the  demands, of  the  social  system  under 
which  for  the  present  we  happen  to  live.  So,  as 
in  Thornycroft's  famous  ''  Medea  "  the  snake  folds 
the  garments  to  the  limbs,  making  the  form  of  the 
woman  more  beautiful,  decadent  thought  insists 
upon  a  human  beauty  in  vice  as  an  offset  to  the 
old-fashioned  beauty  of  holiness.  Sin  has  come 
home  to  the  very  heart  and  flesh  of  man,  a  thousand- 
fold nearer  than  ever.  And  the  native  love  of  sin 
welcomes  the  approach,  till  men  justify  their  sins 
like  old  friends  and  are  loyal  to  them  as  to  their 
ancestry. 


72  EAST  AND  WEST 

What  has  God  to  say  to  all  this  ?  Exactly  the 
same  old  words,  ''As  far  as  the  east  is  from  the 
west ".  Whatever  truth  or  error  may  lie  in  these 
accounts  of  the  origin  of  sin,  our  faith  knows  only 
one  unchanging  fact — the  living  God.  Our  con- 
science has  to  deal  not  with  theory,  but  with  one 
great  will  and  love.  Against  Him,  Him  only,  have 
we  sinned.  Here  and  now,  whatever  be  the  story 
of  life  behind  us,  whatever  the  ultimate  scientific 
definition  of  sin,  we  have  to  meet  the  eyes  of  God 
as  Christ  reveals  Him.  By  His  command,  by  His 
forgiveness,  by  His  redemption.  He  tears  sin  away 
from  His  children  and  holds  it  apart  from  them  now 
as  of  old.  When  God  has  intervened,  we  repudiate 
our  lower  nature,  and  lay  hold  on  our  nobler  man- 
hood. Thus,  in  the  Cross  of  Christ,  we  see  still 
that  great  act  of  God,  that  is  ever  repeated  when 
a  penitent  child  turns  to  his  Father.  It  is  the  act 
of  justificatioii.  Sin  has  not  been  slurred  over, 
nor  forgotten,  nor  suffered  merely  to  drift  away. 
''  As  far  as  the  east  is  from  the  west,  so  far  hath 
he  removed  our  transgressions  from  us. 

2.  RacAal — East  and  West  are  not  mere  points 
in  the  compass ;  they  stand  for  peopled  lands,  and 
even  in  very  ancient  times  their  racial  distinctions 
were  recognized.  Israel  had  already  touched  the 
outposts  of  Greece,  and  had  heard  of  the  young 
power  of  Home — not  indeed  in  any  close  contact, 
but  yet  closely  enough  to   perceive  the  contrast 


EAST  AND  AVEST  73 

between  Europe  and  Asia,  between  Aryan  and 
Semite.  Since  then  all  history  has  borne  witness 
to  the  depth  of  that  cleavage. 

Oh,  East  is  East,  and  West  is  West,  and  never  the  twain  shall 

meet, 
Till  Earth  and  Sky  stand  presently, at  God's  great  Judgment  Seat. 

The  two  represent  different  types  of  humanity. 
The  East  is  dreaming,  the  West  running  to  and  fro. 
The  East  values  a  thought  for  its  beauty  and  its 
mystery,  the  West  for  its  practical  value.  The  East 
fears  immortality,  and  longs  for  the  death  of  desire, 
the  West  rebels  against  death  and  seeks  for  life 
more  abundant.  The  East  lies  back  in  fatalism, 
the  West  stands  erect  in  strength  of  human  will. 
Both  East  and  West  have  sinned,  and  know  it,  and 
honour  those  who  live  a  life  devoid  of  sin.  But  the 
standards  of  moral  judgment  differ,  and  the  ethical 
tastes  are  far  apart.  The  views  of  sex,  of  property, 
of  the  value  of  life,  of  the  rights  of  the  individual, 
of  the  character  of  God,  are  wide  as  the  world 
asunder.  An  Eastern  saint  might  be  a  Western 
criminal,  and  a  Western  hero  an  Eastern  madman. 
All  this  lends  a  richer  significance  to  the  text. 
We  need  to  be  separated  from  our  sins  not  merely 
by  distance  but  by  a  change  of  standard  and  desire. 
When  God  enters,  and  a  man  deals  with  Him  re- 
garding sin,  racial  differences  of  moral  standard 
and  constitutional  taste  disappear.  Jesus  Christ, 
standing  on  that  Syrian  soil  which  has  been  the 


74  EAST  AND  WEST 

historic  meeting  ground  of  East  and  West,  changes 
the  views  of  both,  and  creates  a  higher  patriotism 
strong  as  the  lower  and  far  more  true.  Then  men 
of  all  races,  learning  the  will  of  God  and  His  love, 
take  these  for  their  native  country,  the  homeland 
of  their  spirit,  and  sin  becomes  alien  and  foreign 
to  them. 

What  is  this  but  sanctiji cation,  in  which  sin  is 
removed  not  merely  by  the  forgiving  act  of  God, 
but  by  the  change  of  man's  desire  which  is  the 
work  of  His  Spirit  ?  No  longer  regarded  as  merely 
dangerous  or  foolish  or  wicked,  it  comes  to  be 
literally  hateful — uncongenial  and  utterly  alien  to 
his  desires  and  tastes. 

Such  is  the  twofold  grace  of  God  to  man,  dis- 
covered in  the  ancient  days,  but  operative  through 
all  the  changes  of  the  centuries.  ''Look  how  wide 
also  the  East  is  from  the  West;  so  far  hath  He 
set  our  sins  from  us." 


CHRIST  AMONG  THE  TEANSGRESSORS 

[Fifth  Sunday  in  Lent) 

"He  was  numbered  with  the  transgressors." — Isaiah  liii.  12; 
Luke  xxii.  37. 

This  quotation  by  Jesus  in  the  upper  room  marks 
His  sense  of  the  change  which  the  reversal  of  His 
own  fortunes  must  work  for  the  disciples.  When 
their  master  was  the  popular  prophet  of  Galilee, 
they  had  everywhere  found  themselves  welcome 
and  honoured  guests.  Now  that  He  was  hunted  as 
a  criminal,  they  would  find  themselves  suspects, 
regarded  as  dangerous  to  society.  Thus  ''  num- 
bered among  the  transgressors"  gives  us  at  the 
outset  a  wonderful  glimpse  into  that  great  heart 
which,  in  the  hour  of  its  supreme  self-sacrifice, 
yet  had  leisure  to  feel  His  own  shame  for  their 
sakes. 

To  us,  as  we  look  back  through  so  long  a  stretch 
of  time  to  those  days,  the  words  are  the  statement 
of  a  most  obvious  fact.  Whatever  else  may  be  true 
or  untrue  about  Jesus,  it  is  certainly  true  that  he 
was  numbered  with  the  transgressors.  In  what 
biography  of  the  same  length  shall  we  find  so  many 

(75) 


76     CHEIST  AMONG  THE  TEANSGEESSOKS 

accusations?  He  was  accused  of  Sabbath-break- 
ing, drunkenness,  gluttony,  blasphemy  ;  rebellion 
against  the  Komans,  desecration  of  the  temple, 
subversion  of  the  Jewish  law.  He  was  called  a 
fraudulent  agent  of  the  devil,  a  friend  of  publicans 
and  sinners,  an  enemy  of  his  country  and  of  the 
human  race.  Barabbas  was  accounted  innocent  in 
comparison  with  Him,  and  He  was  crucified  be- 
tween two  thieves. 

So  it  comes  to  pass  that  age  after  age,  looking 
back,  sees  Jesus  embedded  in  the  sin  of  the  world. 
The  Jews  have  so  far  had  their  way,  and  have  fixed 
upon  Him  ''  the  climax  of  reproach  ".  The  believing 
world  has  seen  in  Him  not  merely  the  exhibition  of 
God's  love  and  pity  for  those  stricken  by  sin,  but 
His  identification  of  Himself  with  the  sin  that  had 
stricken  them.  "  Christ  was  not  merely  made  man, 
He  was  made  sin  for  us." 

We  have,  indeed,  little  understanding  of  that 
great  and  dark  saying.  It  opens  a  vista  into  the 
nethermost  mystery  of  iniquity,  the  fathomless 
tragedy  and  reserve  of  darkness.  Yet,  practically, 
we  may  understand  it  well.  Where  is  Christ  to- 
day ?  It  is  asked  by  unbelievers,  puzzled  with  in- 
tellectual difficulties ;  by  believers,  who  have  lost 
their  first  love.  Where  is  He  ?  Why,  among  the 
transgressors.  You  have  cried,  '*  Oh  that  I  knew 
where  I  might  find  Him,"  and  have  sought  for  Him 
among  good  resolutions,  respectabilities,  endeavours 


CHEIST  AMONG  THE  TEANSGEESSOKS     77 

after  a  Christian  life.  Certainly  He  is  there,  but  it 
is  not  always  easy  to  find  Him  there.  There  is  one 
place  where  you  are  sure  of  finding  Christ.  Take 
conscience  for  your  guide  and  go  down  among 
your  sins.  Seek  for  Him  among  the  transgressors. 
That  is  near  home  for  us ;  it  is  where  we  all  live. 
We  have  looked  for  Him  away  from  home,  among 
dreams  and  ideals  and  so  forth.  We  have  been 
claiming  our  inheritance  among  the  saints  in  light, 
yet  living  all  the  time  among  the  transgressors  in 
darkness.  There,  in  the  world  that  conscience 
knows,  we  may  find  Him. 

But  why  ?  On  a  winter  night,  walking  under  a 
scudding  cloudrack  through  which  the  full  moon 
lit  the  white  buildings  of  a  northern  city,  I  first 
heard  that  question.  An  old  man  was  with  me — 
a  man  of  singular  clearness  of  intellect,  originality 
of  imagination,  and  beauty  of  character.  He  told 
me  how  his  life  had  been  arrested  and  wholly 
changed  by  that  great  question,  Why  was  Jesus 
Christ  numbered  with  the  transgressors  ?  He  had 
not  rested  till  he  found  an  answer,  and  here,  in  its 
three  main  propositions,  was  the  answer  he  found. 

1.  To  Fiilfil  the  Law  of  God. — There  is  no  possi- 
bility of  avoiding  the  thought  of  law  in  this  text. 
The  w^ord  "  transgressors  "  implies  it,  and  is  mean- 
ingless without  it.  Christ's  constant  aim  was  to 
fulfil  the  law,  and  his  repudiation  of  the  dead  letter 
only  left  the  spiritual  law  more  binding  than  before. 


78     CHKIST  AMONG  THE  TEANSGKESSOKS 

To-day  we  shrink  from  stating  Christianity  in 
the  formally  forensic  terms  which  have  sometimes 
expressed  it.  The  abstract  conceptions  of  justice 
set  over  against  mercy  seem  unreal  and  incon- 
gruous. We  fall  back  on  the  fatherhood  of  God, 
and  think  all  our  thoughts  in  the  light  of  that.  In- 
deed the  transition  from  legal  to  fatherly  thoughts 
of  God  is  the  characteristic  note  of  modern  theology. 
Yet  in  this  transition  there  is  no  escape  from  law. 
The  law  of  fatherhood  shows  sin  not  as  an  insult 
to  God's  authority  but  as  a  wound  to  His  heart ; 
and  so  our  sins  are  brought  rather  into  the  light  of 
His  countenance  than  before  His  judgment  bar. 
Law  is  thus,  as  it  were,  absorbed  into  the  very  nature 
and  being  of  God.  It  is  no  longer  regarded  as  an 
external  thing,  either  constructed  or  submitted  to 
by  Him.  The  law  of  God  is  just  God  Himself,  the 
Father. 

How,  then,  will  God  deal  with  transgression? 
Obviously  as  a  father  he  cannot  leave  it  alone.  No 
father  dare  neglect  the  sin  of  his  child.  Anything 
like  easy  good  nature  is  impossible  here,  for  it 
would  be  criminal.  When  a  child  has  wounded 
his  father's  moral  nature,  forgiveness  ages  a  man 
and  draws  his  heart's  blood  from  him.  So,  by  the 
law  of  fatherhood,  God  must  deal  with  the  sin  of 
man.     It  can  never  be  a  light  thing. 

It  is  by  no  breath, 
Turn  of  eye,  wave  of  hand,  that  salvation  joins  issue  with  death. 


CHEIST  AMONG  THE  TEANSGEESSOES     79 

It  was  in  this  dreadful  sense  that  Isaiah  had 
akeady  conceived  the  agony  of  God,  and  that  bold 
conception  had  arisen  from  human  experience. 
There  were  many  sin-bearers  in  Israel,  feeling  the 
weight  and  horror  of  other  men's  transgression. 
There  were  men  who  knew  what  it  was  "  to  stoop, 
and  take  upon  your  heart  as  your  business  and 
burden,  man's  sufiFering  and  sin  .  .  .  to  seek  to  lift 
the  deadness  of  men,  to  take  their  guilt  upon  your 
heart,  to  attempt  to  rouse  them  to  it,  to  attempt  to 
deliver  them  from  it ".  It  is  the  story  of  all  phil- 
anthropy. All  purity,  freedom,  truth,  good  con- 
science, peace,  have  been  bought  with  the  blood 
of  sin-bearing  men  who  have  loved  their  fellows 
even  unto  death.  The  law  of  fatherhood  extends 
beyond  that  one  relation,  and  renders  vicarious  sac- 
rifices universal  in  the  higher  ranks  of  existence. 

It  is  fatuous  to  ask  whether  this  is  a  just  law. 
It  is  far  more  than  just,  it  is  divine.  And  all  the 
sin-bearers  of  the  earth  are  but  dim  shadows  of 
the  crucified  Christ,  in  whom  we  see  the  sin  of  the 
children  smiting  full  upon  the  Father's  heart. 
Calvary  offers  the  supreme  example  of  God's  faith- 
fulness to  His  fatherhood,  and  reveals  how  all 
transgression  aff'ects  the  Father. 

2.  To  Get  in  Among  Them. — The  world  was  full 
of  transgressors,  and  yet  each  one  of  them  was 
lonelier  than  if  there  were  only  himself  in  it.  The 
loneliness  of  sin  is  the  sorest  and  most  oppressive 


80     CHEIST  AMONG  THE  TEANSGEESSOKS 

of  all  forms  of  that  strange  but  well-known  pheno- 
menon, the  loneliness  of  the  crowd.  When  con- 
science shuts  the  door  upon  a  soul,  the  thronging 
faces  of  its  fellows  are  but  an  unreal  show.  In  the 
crowded  street,  in  the  busy  market,  in  the  com- 
panionship of  the  home,  the  sinful  soul  is  still  alone. 
Jesus  knew  that  ghastly  solitude  in  which  the 
spirits  of  the  transgressors  dwelt  isolated  and  cut 
off  from  their  fellows.  He  knew  how  they  needed 
Him,  and  He  went  to  them.  Free  to  go  where  He 
pleased.  He  habitually  went  straight  to  the  outcasts, 
and  finally  to  the  cross  between  two  malefactors, 
just  that  He  might  get  among  them. 

But  how  awful  an  experience  this  was,  other 
lives  than  His  can  but  faintly  indicate.  A  man 
who  finds  himself  for  the  first  time  in  prison 
knows  it  as  he  looks  round  upon  his  companions 
and  realizes  that  he  is  now  one  of  these.  The 
terrible  conscience  of  childhood  knows  it,  when  the 
first  conscious  battle  against  temptation  is  lost,  and 
the  child  feels  himself  for  the  first  time  a  member 
of  that  company  of  dark  characters,  the  trans- 
gressors. He,  not  content  with  showing  compas- 
sion from  a  distance  toward  the  sinful,  went  where 
they  were,  descending  into  the  hell  of  conscience. 
He  looked  up  at  life  from  the  bottom  of  the  pit 
where  they  lay,  and  each  transgressor  knew  that 
he  was  understood.  And  that  marvellous  com- 
panionship  endures.     When  conscience  has  been 


CHEIST  AMONG  THE  TEANSGEESSOKS     81 

making  us  feel  bitterly  that  we  are  among  the 
transgressors,  He  is  at  our  side  in  that  dismal  com- 
pany. He  is  with  us  in  the  accursed  subtlety  of 
temptation,  in  the  shame  of  sin,  in  the  sharp  ache 
of  conscience,  in  the  fear  of  consequences,  in  the 
doom  of  the  irrevocable  past.  Standing  amid  the 
wreckage  of  the  years,  in  '^  the  woeful  loss  and 
waste  of  the  blessings  of  holiness,"  we  are  not 
alone,  for  He  is  there  also. 

3.  To  Reduce  their  Number. — As  we  read  the  In- 
ferno of  Dante,  the  feeling  that  grows  more  and 
more  overwhelming  is  the  sense  of  helplessness. 
He  talks  with  the  tortured  spirits  and  hears  what 
they  have  to  tell,  he  scorns  the  meaner  and  weeps 
with  the  nobler  of  them,  but  he  emerges  from  the 
nether  world  alone.  He  saves  himself  :  others  he 
cannot  save,  and  they  remain  transgressors  still. 

But  the  crowd  which  Christ  has  entered  is  a  di- 
minishing crowd,  its  numbers  lessening  day  by  day. 
The  Cross  of  Christ  is  "finishing  transgression 
and  making  an  end  of  sin  ".  He  shares  with  the 
transgressors  their  temptation,  sin,  shame,  dread,  re- 
pentance ;  one  thing  He  does  not  share — their  help- 
lessness. Here,  among  those  spirits  in  prison,  is 
universal  helplessness.  They  rebel  against  their  evil 
ways,  they  are  ashamed  and  disgusted  with  them- 
selves, they  long  in  vain  after  goodness,  but  they 
remain  transgressors  and  they  will  transgress  again. 
Christ  stands  among  them,  alone  only  in  this,  that 

6 


82    CHEIST  AMONG  THE  TEANSGEESSOES 

He  is  stronger  than  transgression.  Even  at  the 
deepest  point  of  his  sin-bearing  there  was  in  him 
the  tremendous  certainty  that  he  was  bearing  sin 
away.  Among  the  helpless  here  is  the  mighty 
Helper,  come  among  them  not  to  sympathize  only 
but  to  set  free. 

The  prophet  sounds  his  grandest  note  of  victory 
when  he  says,  "He  has  His  portion  with  the 
great.  He  divides  the  spoil  with  the  strong". 
Who,  then,  are  the  great  and  strong  in  this  world  ? 
Assuredly  its  sin-bearers.  Those  are  not  the  really 
great  ones  who  have  risen  by  the  fall  of  others,  or 
made  a  desolation  and  called  it  peace :  but  those 
who  have  gone  deepest  into  the  wrongs  and  the 
vices  of  the  world,  and  cleansed  it  from  their  stain. 
The  heroes  are  the  liberators,  who  have  set  the 
world  free,  and  taught  it  to  hope.  With  them 
Christ  divides  the  spoil.  Nay,  rather  He  is  the 
liberator,  and  the  best  of  the  others  but  catch  a 
few  crumbs  from  His  table.  The  victory  of  the 
Cross  lies  in  the  men  and  women  whom  it  has  set 
free  from  sin,  the  reduced  numbers  of  the  trans- 
gressors. Every  one  who  is  less  a  transgressor 
than  before  swells  that  victory  here  upon  the  earth  ; 
and  in  heaven  it  is  made  complete  by  those  who, 
once  transgressors,  are  now  numbered  with  the 
saints  in  glory  everlasting. 

Here,  then,  is  the  Gospel  of  Jesus  Christ.  Good 
news !    He  has  fulfilled  the  law,  the  human  and 


CHEIST  AMONG  THE  TEANSGEESSOES     83 

divine  Law  of  Fatherhood.  Better  news !  He  un- 
derstands the  worst,  and  stands  side  by  side  with 
the  rest  of  us,  entangled  in  the  dark  web  of  sin  and 
conscience.  Best  news  of  all !  He  is  a  match  for 
our  sin,  mighty  to  save.  We  may  be  free  who 
have  been  bondmen ;  we  may  arrive  who  have 
sighed  in  vain  for  any  moral  progress.  The  life  we 
long  for  lies  open  to  our  feet,  for  He  was  num- 
bered with  the  transgressors. 


THE  VALUE  OF  A  PAGEANT 
{Palm  Sunday) 

The  triumphal  entry  into  Jerusalem. — Luke  xix.  28-48. 

This  story  of  a  pageant  breaks  into  the  history  of 
the  passion  with  almost  hidicrous  incongruity.  So 
much  has  this  been  felt,  that  otherwise  trustworthy 
commentators  have  been  tempted  to  allegorize  the 
details  of  it,  making  the  ass  stand  for  the  old 
theocracy  and  the  foal  for  the  young  Church.  But 
the  Bible  remains  interesting  and  alive  in  spite  of 
its  interpreters.  The  foal  is  there  simply  as  a 
beast  to  ride  on :  the  ass  is  there,  not  because 
it  stood  for  the  old  theocracy,  but  because  it  was 
the  mother  of  the  foal.  In  itself  the  whole  story 
is,  as  it  appears,  trivial.  It  is  a  great  truth  ex- 
pressed in  a  very  little  way. 

There  are  two  notes  of  that  journey  to  Jerusa- 
lem— the  kingdom  of  God  and  the  imminent  cross. 
Royalty  and  Death.  Both  of  these  were  clearly 
present  to  the  mind  of  Jesus,  as  the  two  parts  of  a 
deliberate  and  colossal  scheme  for  the  mastery  of 

the  world.     This  sense  of  mastery  is  everywhere 

(84) 


THE  VALUE  OF  A  PAGEANT  85 

apparent.  The  tone  of  Jesus'  speech  is  changed 
from  request  to  command,  from  avoidance  of 
enemies  to  open  challenge ;  and  every  word  and 
action  indicates  a  complete  mastery  of  the  situa- 
tion. But  the  striking  thing  is  that  He  should  have 
changed  not  only  His  tone,  but  His  outward  policy 
also.  He  had  always  been  particularly  averse  to 
the  spectacular,  and  on  more  than  one  occasion 
had  refused  and  avoided  pageants.  Why  does  He 
now  consent  to  one  ? 

Assuredly  it  was  not  because  of  any  change  in 
His  own  view  of  such  shows.  It  has  been  well 
remarked  that  ''  He  stood  apart  from  His  popu- 
larity " ;  He  never  mistook  it  for  greatness.  And 
if  a  popular  demonstration  of  this  sort  offended 
His  sensibilities  in  the  Galilean  days,  how  much 
more  must  it  have  jarred  upon  Him  now,  when  He 
was  gathering  together  the  forces  of  His  spirit  to 
face  the  supreme  event.  It  was  a  concession  to 
human  nature  as  that  was  displayed  around  Him 
then. 

Then,  for  the  first  time,  such  a  concession  was 
safe.  His  task  had  been  to  insist  upon  the  king- 
dom, and  yet  to  avoid  all  attempts  to  make  Him 
King.  For  over  two  years  He  had  managed  the 
populace  as  a  skilful  rider  manages  a  restive  horse, 
now  drawing,  and  now  slackening  rein.  Thus  He 
had  kept  a  bloody  revolution  at  arm's  length.  But 
now  at  last  there  was  no  danger  of  such  a  revolu- 


86  THE  VALUE  OF  A  PAGEANT 

tion.  There  was,  indeed,  no  time  for  it,  for  His 
death  was  distant  but  a  week,  and  He  must  have 
known  it. 

And  there  was  a  certain  value  in  such  a  pageant, 
however  distasteful  it  might  be  to  Him.  It  was 
certain  to  impress  the  imagination  of  His  disciples, 
who  were  simple  enough  to  set  much  store  by 
such  exhibitions.  It  painted  for  them  an  impres- 
sive picture,  which  would  afterwards  illuminate 
their  faith  in  the  royalty  of  Jesus  ;  and  in  the  same 
way  it  might  conceivably  impress  outsiders,  render- 
ing them  more  ready  for  the  subsequent  call  of  the 
gospel,  and  inclining  them  to  accept  it. 

So  then  we  have  this  strange  combination  of  the 
great  with  the  small,  the  eternal  with  the  fleeting. 
That  blending  consciousness  of  royalty  and  death 
is  superb  even  from  a  literary  and  artistic  point 
of  view.  From  a  spiritual  point  of  view  it  is  the 
most  majestic  conception  that  ever  entered  into  the 
heart  of  man.  This  unearthly  kingdom,  winning 
its  way  through  death  to  eternal  and  redeeming 
life,  is  infinitely  removed  from  the  vulgarities  of 
popular  applause,  and  the  passing  shows  of  festival. 
In  it  the  Messiah  is  seen  leading  men,  by  the  path 
of  the  Cross,  to  God  and  to  their  own  true  destiny. 
It  is  an  hour  when  angels  may  well  have  felt  a 
silence  fall  on  them  as  they  watched. 

But  that  solemnity  was  crowded  with  nearer 
watchers,   and   it   was  characteristic  of  Jesus   to 


THE  VALUE  OF  A  PAGEANT  87 

remember  them  and  to  gratify  their  poorer  needs. 
Some  were  impressed  by  Him  simply  as  a  worker  of 
wonders.  Some  were  Gahlean  revolutionaries, 
proud  of  their  countryman  and  vaunting  his  prowess 
against  the  gates  of  the  half-paganized  Jerusalem. 
The  majority  were  doubtless  peasants  on  a  holiday, 
ready  for  any  excitement,  and  full  of  the  Oriental 
delight  in  processions  and  shouting.  All  that 
whimsical  and  motley  crowd  acknowledged  His 
royalty,  yet  none  of  them  took  it  seriously  enough 
to  follow  it  up  to  any  purpose.  They  were  light- 
hearted  and  uncomprehending  children,  and  there 
was  no  great  value  in  their  acclamations.  Yet  it 
was  Jesus'  way  to  speak  to  men,  and  to  let  them 
speak,  in  their  own  language,  and  to  accept  homage 
according  to  that  a  man  hath.  This  was  a  childish 
way,  but  it  was  royalty  as  they  understood  it.  So 
far  as  it  went  it  was  well  enough,  though  in  truth 
it  did  not  go  far. 

This  surely  speaks  its  word  to  an  age  like  our 
own,  in  which  so  very  many  people  are  playing  at 
being  Christians.  Royalty  and  death  are  still  be- 
fore the  world,  in  the  great  and  eternal  tragedy  of 
the  Cross.  But  the  crowd  is  ever  spectacular  in 
heart,  and  Christianity  has  much  that  may  be 
borrowed  for  the  colour  and  shouting  of  the  passing 
show.  Its  fine  thoughts  may  be  used  to  break  the 
monotony  of  colourless  lives.  So  it  is  utilized  in 
all  manner  of  cheap  appeals.     A  political  allusion, 


88  THE  VALUE  OF  A  PAGEANT 

a  much  advertised  religious  picture  or  play,  a 
popular  preacher  interesting  the  crowd  for  an  hour 
— in  these  the  multitude  puts  Jesus  Christ  for  a 
moment  in  the  centre  of  its  tableau,  the  successor 
of  a  demagogue,  the  predecessor  of  an  artiste. 

There  is  not  necessarily  any  harm  in  such  a  pass- 
ing interest  in  Christ ;  it  may  conceivably  do  good. 
He  still  speaks  to  us  all  in  our  own  language,  and 
consents  to  the  pageant.  Only  do  not  let  any  one 
who  swells  that  crowd  take  himself  too  seriously, 
or  imagine  that  his  approval  and  applause  are 
religion.  This  is  only  a  side  issue  at  the  best. 
Eoyalty  and  death  are  in  the  heart  of  Christ,  and 
we  are  called  upon  to  reckon  with  that  dread  pur- 
pose of  His,  each  of  us  for  ourselves.  The  show 
will  pass  and  be  forgotten,  but  how  do  we  stand  in 
respect  of  mastery  over  self  and  the  world  and  sin  1 
What  share  have  we  in  the  royal  victory  of  the 
Cross  ? 

The  King  was  in  tears  in  that  procession.  As 
they  swept  round  the  corner  of  the  road  on  Olivet, 
and  the  fortress-like  mass  of  the  city's  buildings 
burst  upon  their  view,  He  wept.  Partly  it  was  the 
city  that  moved  Him,  standing  aloof  in  its  cold, 
strong  superiority.  In  the  faces  of  the  priests, 
sunning  themselves  by  the  temple  walls  that  day 
and  asking  haughtily  "  Who  is  this  ?  "  He  saw  a 
great  lie  confronting  His  great  truth.  And  He  saw 
the  inevitable  end,  when  that  truth  would  conquer, 


THE  VALUE  OF  A  PAGEANT  89 

and  ruin  and  despair  would  end  the  lofty  complac- 
ency. Partly,  too,  it  was  just  the  pageant  itself 
that  moved  Him.  The  utter  sarcasm  of  His  mighty 
truth  hailed  with  the  shouting  of  little  souls,  filled 
His  heart  with  an  unrestrainable  compassion  for  the 
multitude — the  shallow  multitude  who  were  needing 
a  saviour  and  yet  were  satisfied  with  a  procession. 

Those  tears  of  the  King  were  the  real  secret  of 
His  royalty.  They  were  shed  for  love  of  men,  and 
that  love  is  the  secret  alike  of  the  kingdom  and  the 
Cross.  It  is  because  He  had  the  heart  to  weep 
over  these  things  that  He  is  the  eternal  King  of 
men.  Still  and  for  ever  it  is  the  love  of  Christ 
that  makes  Him  king.  He  is  "  the  gentlest  of  the 
mighty" — mightiest  of  all  because  of  His  great 
compassion.  He  weeps  over  the  scorners  and 
the  shouters  still — over  those  whose  cold  and 
haughty  superiority  stands  aloof,  and  over  those 
whose  shallow  enthusiasm  applauds  Him  for  an 
hour.  But  those  who  are  wise  will  pause  and  con- 
sider this  extraordinary  situation.  And  His  kingdom 
will  be  built  up  to  the  end  of  time  from  the  ranks 
alike  of  enemies  and  wayside  followers  to  whom 
the  tears  of  Jesus  have  revealed  the  royalty  of  the 
Cross. 


THE  RISING  OF  CHRIST 

{Easter-Day) 

"  They  have  taken  away  my  Lord,  and  I  know  not  where  they 
have  laid  Him." — St.  John  xx.  13. 

A  GREAT  many  problems  have  risen  round  the  stories 
of  Christ's  resurrection.  Between  the  extremes  of 
denying  all  material  elements  and  seeing  in  the 
dogma  merely  a  spiritual  truth,  and  of  accepting  all 
the  details  of  the  varying  narratives  and  attempting 
a  reconstruction  which  will  reconcile  them  all,  there 
are  many  possible  dogmatic  positions.  Fortunately 
it  is  not  necessary  to  wait  for  the  truth  and  in- 
spiration of  the  Easter  message  until  we  have 
settled  such  matters.  Questions  of  physiology  about 
the  body  have  really  little  to  do  with  it,  and  dis- 
cussions about  the  angels  nothing  at  all.  Two 
things  only  concern  us.  First,  the  great  assurance 
that  Jesus  who  was  dead  is  alive  again  for  ever- 
more ;  and  second,  the  fact  that  that  assurance 
comes  to  the  world  in  connexion  with  some  of  the 
most  tenderly  human  stories  ever  told.  With  re- 
gard to  the   assurance   itself,  it  was  that  which 

seized  upon  Dr.  Dale  in  so  remarkable  a  manner 

(90) 


THE  KISING  OF  CHKIST  91 

while  he  was  writing  an  Easter  sermon — "  Christ  is 
alive,"  he  said,  and  kept  repeating  it  in  a  kind  of 
ecstasy  whose  record  is  one  of  the  most  interesting 
passages  in  his  biography.  Bishop  Andrewes  points 
us  in  the  same  direction  when  he  says  :  ''  Our  Lord 
makes  mention  of  ascending  twice,  of  rising  not  at 
all.  And  it  is  to  teach  us  that  resurrection  is  noth- 
ing, nor  is  any  account  to  be  made  of  it,  if  ascension 
go  not  with  it."  As  to  the  human  associations  of 
that  great  assurance,  none  of  them  all  touches  so 
deep  a  pathos  or  sends  on  so  typical  an  experience 
to  the  future  as  this  woman's  cry.  "  They  " — and 
in  the  very  vagueness  there  is  a  bitter  sound,  as  if 
she  were  feeling  men  and  things  in  general  arrayed 
against  her — "  they  have  taken  away  my  Lord  ". 
And  all  the  time  He  was  risen,  and  waiting  to  show 
Himself  to  her.  Only,  when  He  did  show  Himself, 
it  was  not  as  she  had  thought  to  see  Him.  She  was 
expecting  a  dead  body  wrapped  with  sweet  spices 
in  fine  linen.  She  found  a  living  friend,  who  called 
her  by  her  name. 

Resurrection  is  the  method  of  the  kingdom  of 
God.  Not  by  steady  and  unbroken  progress  does 
it  advance,  but  by  death  and  rising  again  in  new 
form  from  the  dead.  So  it  has  been  in  the  history 
of  the  Church.  Again  and  again  the  familiar  forms 
in  which  faith  had  apprehended  Him  die  and  are 
lost  to  sight,  only  to  be  superseded  by  some  new 
aspect  of  Him,  at  first  unfamiliar  and  distrusted,  at 


92  THE  EISING  OF  CHEIST 

last  recognized  as  Christ  risen  again.  So  it  has  been 
also  in  the  faith  of  individuals.  Having  known  Him 
in  some  particular  fashion,  we  try  to  retain  the 
vision  just  as  it  was.  Like  Haliburton,  like  Peter 
before  him,  we  ''spake  ravingly  of  tabernacles". 
But  God  is  inexorable,  and  we  have  to  learn  for 
ourselves  "  what  this  rising  from  the  dead  should 
mean  ". 

1.  Histori/.— The  Church  began  in  a  primitive 
simplicity  which  was  content  to  tell  the  story  of  the 
Gospels.  And,  told  by  hearts  hot  with  love  to  Jesus, 
that  story  conquered  the  world.  But  as  the  faith 
spread  through  the  Roman  Empire,  and  came  in 
contact  with  the  Greek  thought  of  the  day,  lawless 
thinking  and  loose  organization  demanded  new 
forms  both  of  creed  and  of  ecclesiasticism,  and  the 
ancient  Catholic  Church  arose.  Doubtless  there 
were  many  simple  souls  who  felt  themselves  lost 
and  bewildered  among  all  those  new  institutions, 
and  whose  cry  was :  "  They  have  taken  away  my 
Lord,  and  I  know  not  where  they  have  laid  Him  ". 
Yet  He  was  not  taken  away,  but  risen,  in  a  new 
form  suited  to  the  new  situation. 

But  that  form,  too,  became  obsolete.  The  ritual, 
like  burial  spices,  seemed  to  hide  Him  in  its  formal- 
ities of  worship,  and  love  died  away.  Then  came 
the  reformation,  sweeping  away  much  of  what  had 
once  revealed  the  Lord  to  the  world,  and  substitut- 
ing great  intelligible  truths   which  woke   the  in- 


THE  EISING  OF  CHEIST  93 

tellect  as  well  as  the  devotion  of  the  world.  But 
there  were  tender  and  reverent  spirits  to  whom 
the  old  way  had  meant  much,  and  who  like  Luther's 
wife  felt  the  chill  of  the  new,  and  the  old  cry 
was  heard  again.  But  Christ  was  risen,  a  great  Sun 
of  Righteousness  that  gladdened  all  the  Western 
lands  and  brought  healing  in  His  wings. 

Yet  again  that  living  truth  hardened  into  dead 
dogma,  and  this  time  there  was  not  even  the  sweet- 
ness of  the  burial  spices,  but  only  dust  and  ashes. 
So  there  arose,  first  the  successive  evangelistic 
revivals  and  then  the  broader  and  more  human 
presentation,  which  has  taken  for  its  central  thought 
the  fatherly  rather  than  the  judicial  aspect  of  God. 
Again  there  were  grave  and  loyal  spirits  who  felt 
the  new  developments  dangerous,  and  who  had  to 
learn  that  Christ  was  not  taken  away  by  the  changes 
they  had  witnessed,  but  only  risen  once  more,  to 
live  and  speak  in  new  times. 

All  these  illustrate  the  same  truth  of  the  method 
of  resurrection.  Phase  after  phase  of  Christian 
faith  rises,  lives,  and  grows  obsolete :  and  always 
there  are  some  who  cry  that  the  Christ  of  the 
fathers  has  been  taken  away.  But  really  it  is  only 
a  phase  that  has  been  taken.  That  phase  is  dead. 
It  has  served  its  time  and  has  now  become  ineffec- 
tive, no  longer  influencing  conduct,  stirring  the 
heart,  or  convincing  the  intellect.  Those  historic  dis- 
appearances of  Christ  warn  us  against  the  attempt 


94  THE  EISING  OF  CHKIST 

to  go  back  and  find  Him  in  any  more  primitive  form 
of  faith.  They  teach  us  to  treat  forms  of  faith  new 
to  us  respectfully,  as  if  in  them  indeed  we  may  find 
the  risen  body  of  the  Lord.  Love  at  the  first  found 
this  truth,  and  so  discovered  the  risen  One  ;  and  in 
times  of  doubt  and  change  love  must  rediscover 
Christ. 

Nor  is  the  comfort  of  the  text  only  for  the  dis- 
heartened believer.  The  victory  of  science  has  for 
many  of  its  own  votaries  a  disconcerting  aspect. 
Like  Arctic  discovery,  men  press  forward  through 
untold  dangers  and  with  unquenchable  enthusiasm, 
only  to  reach  some  point  of  measureless  dreariness. 
Science  has  taken  away  from  them  their  Lord.  It 
is  not  so.  The  facts  remain,  deep  facts  of  human 
need  and  sin  and  sorrow.  The  emphasis  of  these 
has  indeed  been  changed  by  modern  thought,  from 
the  individual  to  the  social,  from  the  dogmatic  to 
the  spiritual,  from  abstract  metaphysic  to  concrete 
experience.  The  claim  of  the  new  phases  is  as 
sound  as  that  of  the  old  was.  ''  There  is  no  real 
resting-place,"  says  the  late  Dr.  Jowett,  "  but  in  the 
entire  faith  that  all  true  knowledge  is  a  revelation 
of  the  will  of  God."  In  the  new  forms  Christ  is 
not  taken  away,  but  risen  that  He  may  reveal  the 
Father  to  a  new  generation. 

2.  Individual  Experie7ice. — Here,  too,  Christ  often 
disappears,  and  those  who  have  lost  Him  come  to  old 
means  of  grace — doctrines,  sacraments,  devotions 


.      THE  EISING  OF  CHEIST  95 

— and  find  them  but  cold  and  empty  cerements. 
Doctrinal  causes  may  explain  the  change.  From 
some,  creeds  have  taken  away  their  Lord,  and  from 
others  the  passing  of  creeds  has  done  this.  From 
some  the  rush  of  life  and  the  hurry  of  business  have 
taken  Him,  from  others  the  sorrows  and  discourage- 
ments of  the  years  have  done  it.  They  used  to  be 
very  sure  of  Him,  but  life  has  become  too  difficult 
or  too  bitter. 

When  tears  are  spent,  and  thou  art  left  alone 

With  ghosts  of  blessings  gone. 

They  know  not  where  He  is  laid. 

Others  have  lost  Him  through  ease  and  luxury 
and  self-indulgence.  You  used  to  be  poorer,  and 
Christ  was  more  to  you  then.  But  those  worldly 
advantages  which  you  strove  so  hard  to  gain,  have 
ill  repaid  you.  They  have  taken  away  your  Lord, 
and  with  Him  have  gone  peace,  and  the  vitality 
and  freedom  and  gladness  which  once  you  knew. 
In  such  cases  it  is  not  really  Christ  who  has  been 
taken  away.  The  Lord  is  there,  but  tears  are  in 
His  eyes.  For  the  world  has  taken  away  your 
heart  from  Him,  and  who  knows  where  it  has 
laid  it? 

In  any  case,  in  one  way  or  another,  the  world  has 
been  too  much  for  you.  Yet  none  of  all  these 
things  have  taken  away  your  Lord.  He  is  risen,  and 
He  waits  to  meet  you,  when  you  wander  bewildered, 
disheartened,  or  ashamed.      His  appearance  will 


96  THE  EISING  OF  CHEIST 

not  indeed  be  exactly  what  it  was  before.  The 
search  for  truth,  the  cruelty  of  suffering,  and  the 
shame  of  apostacy — each  works  in  the  soul  changes 
which  require  some  new  aspect  of  the  Christ. 
But  the  wonderful  thing  about  Christ  is  that  He 
is  sufficient  for  life  in  all  its  aspects;  and  that 
whatever  be  your  experience,  and  however  im- 
possible it  be  now  to  regain  the  exact  aspect  of 
faith  which  once  was  yours,  there  is  in  Him  all  that 
man  can  ever  need.  He  stands  not  where  you  were 
but  beside  you  where  you  are,  and  if  you  will  but 
turn  and  look  you  will  find  that  He  is  risen  and  not 
taken  away. 


A  SONG  OF  THE  MORNING 

"And  he  shall  be  as  the  light  of  the  morning,  when  the  sun 
riseth,  even  a  morning  without  clouds." — 2  Samuel  xxiii.  4. 

These  were  the  last  words  of  David,  and  they  tell 
us  his  ideal  of  what  a  King  should  be.  But  the 
passage  is  deeply  religious,  and  its  import  is  far  more 
than  a  conception  of  royalty.  It  is  a  conception  of 
human  life  with  the  morning  light  of  God  shining 
upon  it.  Behind  it  there  were  the  memories  of 
certain  mornings,  great  in  the  national  history. 
There  was  that  day  when  "  the  sea  returned  to  his 
strength  when  the  morning  appeared,"  and  Israel 
was  free.  Farther  back  in  the  past  there  was  that 
other  morning  when  the  sun  rose  on  Jacob  as  he 
passed  over  Penuel  after  his  night  of  wrestling. 
It  was  from  such  passages  that  pious  Israelites 
drew  their  thoughts  of  God,  and  worshipped  with 
*'  glorious  morning  face  ". 

As  Israel  looked  back  upon  such  mornings,  so 
she  looked  forward  to  others  not  less  bright. 
Weeping  might  endure  for  a  night,  joy  would  come 
in  the  morning.     The  Lord  would  help  her  "  when 

morning  dawneth  ".     Her  light  would  break  forth 

(97)  7 


98  A  SONG  OF  THE  MOENING 

as  the  morning,  and  her  righteous  ones  would 
triumph  then.  It  is  true  that  some  of  her  doleful 
spirits  have  nothing  more  grateful  to  say  than 
''  Would  God  it  were  evening,"  and  there  are  some 
to  whom  the  morning  is  "  even  as  the  shadow  of 
death".  But  that  is  only  their  sorrow  or  their 
weakness,  or  the  irritation  of  the  pessimist  who  is 
aggrieved  by  any  call  to  rejoice.  Israel's  usual 
view  of  the  morning  is  fresh  and  healthy.  It  is  a 
call  to  labour  and  to  wholesome  thoughts.  "  In 
the  morning  sow  thy  seed,"  "Man  goeth  forth  unto 
his  work  and  to  his  labour  until  the  evening." 
With  the  sunrise  has  come  safety ;  the  wild  beasts 
are  gone  to  their  dens ;  the  highways  of  travel  and 
of  labour  are  clear,  and  the  world  is  open  for  man. 
Everything  is  alive  and  cool  and  growing.  The 
ground  is  fresh  with  dew,  and  the  young  grass  is 
springing.  Man,  too,  wakeneth  morning  by  morning 
fresh  and  keen. 

This  morning  light  is  on  our  Christian  faith.  We 
are  for  ever  ageing  before  our  time.  As  the  shadows 
fall  upon  our  work,  we  begin  to  feel  that  we  have 
had  our  day.  Yet  when  we  look  for  sunset  and 
the  dark,  it  is  a  new  sunrise  that  is  coming : — 

And  not  by  eastern  windows  only, 

When  daylight  comes,  comes  in  the  light : 

In  front,  the  sun  climbs  slow,  how  slowly. 
But  westward,  look,  the  land  is  bright. 

The  note  of  paganism  is  the  evening  light  through 


A  SONG  OF  THE  MOENING  99 

which  it  looks  back  to  a  golden  age  far  in  the  past. 
The  worship  of  Buddha  seems  to  dwell  in  "  a  land 
where  it  is  always  afternoon  ".  Christianity  is  es- 
sentially the  religion  of  the  morning. 

This  involves  many  things,  but  above  all  others 
it  is  the  guarantee  of  health  as  opposed  to  senti- 
mentality of  all  kinds.  Eeligion,  even  the  Christian 
religion,  has  been  regarded  otherwise.  It  has  been 
draped  in  close  curtains  of  spurious  mystery,  stifled 
with  ceremonial,  made  to  appeal  solely  to  the 
senses  and  emotions,  until  it  had  become  hope- 
lessly morbid  and  decadent.  To  be  bright  and 
keen,  to  be  natural,  to  be  heartily  and  simply 
human,  has  been  regarded  as  a  lapse  into  irre- 
ligious secularity.  There  has  been  indeed  at 
times  such  a  proud  exultation  in  the  mere  world 
and  its  godless  life,  that  faith  has  been  driven 
for  shelter  to  the  darkness  of  midnight  assemblies. 
But  though  Lucifer,  son  of  the  morning,  is  fallen, 
morning  has  another  Son  greater  and  more  abiding. 
Jesus  Christ  is  the  bright  and  morning  star.  Ours 
is  not  the  faith  of  those  who  hear  only  the  voices 
of  the  night.  Its  believers  are  men  who  are  sing- 
ing in  morning  light,  and  that  light — sane,  clear, 
and  cool — falls  on  all  things  earthly,  and  reveals 
them  as  they  are. 

The  Christian  view  of  Mstoi^y  illustrates  this. 
There  is  a  dreary  scientific  doctrine  that  the  world 
is  growing  aged  and  decrepit.     It  has  had  its  day, 


100  A  SONG  OF  THE  MOENING 

but  now  its  powers  are  dying  out,  and  it  ''goes 
dispiritedly,  glad  to  finish  ".  Nor  have  there  been 
wanting  some  Christian  believers  to  endorse  the 
gloomy  impression.  Such  Christianity  despairs  of 
life  in  the  present,  stands  marking  time  till  the 
Judgment  Day  or  the  Second  Coming,  as  if  that 
were  all  there  is  to  do.  But  those  who  have  drunk 
more  deeply  of  the  spirit  of  our  faith,  discover  daily 
that  old  things  are  passing  away  and  all  things 
becoming  new.  We  are  standing  not  at  the  end 
but  at  the  beginning  of  things.  We  go  forth  into 
the  world  daily  remembering  that  it  is  morning. 
We  ourselves  may  grow  old  without  a  pang,  for 
"  the  best  is  yet  to  be,"  and  our  children  shall  see 
still  better  days  than  ours.  The  times  may  be  pre- 
carious and  their  problems  difficult  to  master,  but 
the  night  is  past  and  the  day  is  before  us. 

Equally  true  is  this  assurance  of  our  individual 
experience.  The  Christian  feels  the  stirring  of  a 
new  creation  in  his  soul.  The  coming  of  the  new 
life  of  God  is  not  merely  an  event ;  it  is  a  process, 
and  we  are  daily  being  created.  As  yet  we  are  but 
in  the  making.  If  this  condition — this  sinfulness 
and  blindness  and  wavering  faith  and  changeful 
desire — were  the  finished  product  of  manhood,  it 
would  indeed  be  profoundly  discouraging.  But  it 
doth  not  yet  appear  what  we  shall  be,  though  we 
know  that  we  shall  be  like  Him.  Every  one  who, 
in  books  or  in  real  life,  has  had  much  intercourse 


A  SONG  OF  THE  MOENING  101 

with  aged  saints,  has  learned  that  the  Christian 
need  never  grow  old  at  all.  It  was  this  that  so 
arrests  the  wondering  eyes  of  the  Roman  in 
''  Marius  the  Epicurean/'  and  gives  to  that  great 
book  much  of  its  rare  charm  and  clean  fragrance. 
If  you  know  Jesus  Christ,  you  may  trust  life,  and  go 
forward  brightly  to  its  latest  day.  Your  master 
has  the  secret  of  perpetual  youth. 

For  further  detail,  let  us  set  the  Christian  graces 
in  this  morning  light  : — 

1.  Faith, — There  was  a  period  in  the  nineteenth 
century  when  faith  was  seen  by  many  of  the  noblest 
eyes,  in  an  evening  light.  Watchers  of  twilight, 
or  of  darkness,  the  cry  echoed  from  poets  to 
prose  writers,  ''  Watchman,  what  of  the  night  ? " 
And  the  answers  that  came  back  were  such  as 
this — 

I  stretch  lame  hands  of  faith,  and  grope, 
And  gather  dust  and  chaff,  and  call 
To  what  I  feel  is  Lord  of  all, 

And  faintly  trust  the  larger  hope. 

But  the  twentieth  century  is  seeing  things  disen- 
tangled, and  distinguishing  between  essential  and 
merely  casual  beliefs.  The  morning  light  is  clear 
and  plain,  and  certain  truths  are  visible  in  it.  Faith 
is  no  longer  groping  and  faintly  trusting,  bewildered 
among  a  vast  system  of  beliefs.  Its  certainties  are 
fewer,  but  they  are  absolutely  certain.  The  faith 
of  to-day  is  not  dream  but  vision. 


102  A  SONG  OF  THE  MOENING 

Such  also  is  its  vision  of  good,  with  clearer  if 
less  conveutional  light  falling  on  moral  questions. 
''  Morning's  at  seven/'  as  Pippa  sang.  The  shutters 
are  open,  and  instead  of  the  many-coloured  lanterns 
of  tempting  sophistry,  moralists  are  seeing  by  day- 
light things  as  they  are.  Such  is  the  vision  of 
Christ.  We  do  not  demand  of  men  that  they  shall 
hold  so  complete  a  set  of  definitions.  But  the  pro- 
gress of  research  has  made  Him  stand  out  in  clear 
light  among  the  indisputable  and  eternal  facts,  and 
that  is  better  than  any  completeness  of  theory  or 
brilliancv  of  imagination  that  mav  turn  out  to  be  a 

4.  O  k 

pageantry  of  dreams. 

2.  Hope. — There  is  a  hope  in  evening  light ;  that 
hope  deferred  that  maketh  the  heart  sick.  Such 
hope  may  be  a  genuine  Christian  grace.  The  faint- 
est light  set  in  the  future  by  some  promise  of  God 
is  precious  ;  and  beyond  all,  there  is  the  "  one  far- 
off,  divine  event  to  which  the  whole  creation  moves  ". 
Yet  for  us  there  is  a  nearer  hope.  In  the  morning, 
hope  is  immediate,  and  it  concerns  the  facts  of  a 
day  that  has  already  dawned.  Christ  has  not  only 
pointed  us  towards  a  distant  eternity,  that  may 
explain  and  compensate  for  a  hopeless  present.  He 
has  not  only  assured  us  that  things  will  come  right 
in  the  end.  He  has  made  us  feel  that  to-day  life  is 
worth  while. 

3.  Love,  in  evening  light,  means  rest,  and  the 
sweetness  of  fireside  converse.     In  morning  light, 


A  SONG  OF  THE  MOENING  103 

love  means  labour.  As  the  doors  close  behind  them, 
the  workmen  do  not  love  their  homes  less,  but  more, 
because  they  are  going  forth  from  them  to  labour. 
So  love  to  God  in  morning  light  is  a  call  to  service. 
Do  not  stay  brooding  in  close-curtained  thought, 
searching  your  soul  for  love  to  God : — 

I  love  and  love  not :  Lord,  it  breaks  my  heart 
To  love  and  not  to  love. 

The  day  has  dawned,  the  workmen  of  the  world 
are  abroad.  Go  forth  and  join  them,  and  express 
your  love  in  labour  for  God's  sake. 

Let  us  set  our  religion  thus  in  the  fresh  and 
wholesome  light  of  morning,  while  the  call  of  life 
is  in  our  ears.  The  evening  will  come  soon  enough, 
and  with  it  rest  and  pensive  sweetness  and  softness 
of  feeling.  Meanwhile  the  sun  is  risen  ;  let  us 
arise  and  live. 


THE  MORE  EXCELLENT  WAY 

"That  ye  may  approve  things  that  are  excellent." — Phil.  i.  10. 

In  this  very  remarkable  prayer,  St.  Paul  is  guided 
by  a  conception  of  Christianity  as  it  really  is,  and  he 
is  expressing  successive  aspects  of  the  world  into 
which  it  introduces  men.  The  text  describes  one 
such  aspect,  and  an  extremely  important  one,  viz. 
the  approvals  of  a  life,  its  unforced  choices,  in- 
stinctive preferences,  and  habitual  consents. 

Such  choices  meet  us  as  the  constant  necessity  of 
daily  life.  Frequently  we  would  rather  avoid  the 
responsibility  of  them,  but  we  cannot.  Our  en- 
vironment is  infinitely  various,  with  its  multitude  of 
possible  books,  friends,  plans,  attitudes  of  mind, 
thoughts  and  actions.  Among  these  there  are 
great  currents  of  fashion  and  of  influence  flowing 
strongly  in  different  directions,  so  that  we  not  only 
choose  this  or  that  in  detail,  but  must  commit  our- 
selves to  habits  and  to  parties  which  will  bear  us 
on,  the  saving  or  destroying  influences  of  our  career. 

Further,  many  of  the  problems  of   choice   are 

extremely  delicate.     We  have  to  face  not  only  the 

(104) 


THE  MOEE  EXCELLENT  WAY  105 

crude  question  of  right  or  wrong,  but  a  set  of 
standards  as  much  finer  than  these  as  a  micro- 
scopic scale  is  finer  than  a  yard  stick.  "  We  have 
not  to  distinguish  the  obviously  good  from  bad,  but 
among  good  things,  good  from  best."  This  is  the 
finesse  of  the  game  of  life,  in  which  lies  the  secret 
of  all  true  culture.  There  are  a  thousand  little 
points  of  manner,  speech,  thought,  and  action,  in 
which  both  of  two  possible  courses  are  justifiable, 
but  one  is  the  finer  course,  and  belongs  to  the  things 
which  are  excellent.  This  prayer  is  for  a  type  of 
character  founded  upon  the  habitual  choice  of  such 
things. 

Obviously  this  first  of  all  requires  appreciation — 
to  know  what  one  desires  and  to  desire  rightly.  If 
it  be  important  to  learn  how  to  say  No,  it  is  still 
more  important  to  learn  how  to  say  Yes,  and  to  say  it 
emphatically.  For,  even  in  so  unsatisfactory  a  world 
as  this,  there  are  some  things  which  are  excellent 
— things  that  are  "  true,  honest,  just,  pure,  lovely, 
and  of  good  report ".  There  is  a  certain  number  of 
such  things  round  about  us  all.  Some  people  are 
turning  over  large  heaps  of  them,  to  find  the  un- 
pleasant things  below,  but  that  does  not  alter  the 
fact.  If  your  world  of  thought  and  choice  is  ugly 
and  second-rate,  that  is  neither  God's  fault  nor  the 
world's.  It  is  your  own  fault,  who  have  approved 
these  things  for  emphasis.  The  world  is  strewn 
with  the  good  gifts  of  God.    "  Here  is  God's  plenty," 


106  THE  MOEE  EXCELLENT  WAY 

as  Dryden  says  of  Chaucer  :  and  the  opulence  of  the 
world  is  the  heartening  message  of  many  others 
who  have  found  *'  power  each  side,  perfection  every 
turn  ".  It  is  a  great  and  wise  thing  to  look  around 
us  with  chaste  desire  and  loving  eye,  and  to  see  and 
appreciate  the  choicest  excellence. 

Yet  appreciation  must  be  balanced  with  criticism, 
for  in  a  world  like  this  there  is  a  very  manifest 
limit  to  approval,  and  criticism,  no  less  than  apprecia- 
tion, is  a  distinctively  Christian  duty.  Marius  the 
Epicurean  recognized  in  his  Christian  friend  ''  some 
inward  standard  of  distinction,  selection,  refusal, 
amid  the  various  elements  of  the  fervid  and  corrupt 
life  "  around  them.  Even  in  literature,  as  Pater  else- 
where insists,  the  choicest  work  depends  upon  the  art 
of  cutting  off  surplusage  ;  and  all  finest  things,  like 
the  diamond,  gain  their  beauty  by  sacrifice  of 
precious  dust.  "  Excellence  is  not  common  and 
abundant,"  says  Matthew  Arnold,  "  whoever  talks 
of  excellence  as  common  and  abundant  is  on  the 
way  to  lose  all  right  standard  of  excellence." 

The  necessity  of  criticism  is  true  even  to  the 
length  of  a  positive  duty  of  hatred.  Era  Angelico 
is  famous  as  the  man  who  could  not  paint  a  devil, 
and  no  one  can  withhold  the  tribute  of  reverence 
for  so  pure  a  spirit.  Yet  if  there  are  devils  there, 
such  a  view  of  life  as  his  can  never  be  a  true  picture 
of  the  world.  Browning's  great  words  are  eternally 
true : — 


THE  MOEE  EXCELLENT  WAY  107 

Dante,  who  loved  well  because  he  hated, 
Hated  wickedness  that  hinders  loving. 

All  strong  souls  know  what  that  means.  It  is  the 
secret  of  moral  and  spiritual  robustness,  and  it  is  a 
principle  which  Jesus  Christ  illustrated  in  Himself 
and  taught  to  His  disciples. 

Yet,  while  this  is  true,  it  tells  in  favour  of 
appreciation  rather  than  against  it.  Our  part  is 
not  to  select  the  evil  elements  for  emphasis,  nor  is 
it  to  simply  accept  the  world  in  its  breadth,  going 
in  good-naturedly  with  everything.  In  knowledge, 
it  is  not  our  part  to  be  mere  ''pickers  up  of  learn- 
ing's crumbs,"  who  accumulate  miscellaneous  facts. 
We  must  specialize  if  we  are  to  have  a  message. 
In  character  and  affections,  the  ideal  is  not  that  of 
mere  enthusiastic  persons,  who  are  friends  of  all 
the  world,  with  a  vulgar  heat  of  indiscriminate 
praise.  A  more  austere  way  of  dealing  with  life  is 
expected  of  us.  Christianity  is  not  all  kindliness 
and  fervour.  It  is  severely  discriminating  judg- 
ment also,  and  thought  founded  on  knowledge. 
There  is  no  real  fear  that  knowledge  will  cool  love  : 
love  is  cooled  rather  by  ignorance  and  carelessness. 

Thus  Christian  character  also  involves  selection,  not 
only  of  obvious  right  in  contrast  with  wrong,  but  of 
the  finest  kind  of  right  and  that  which  is  fittest  for 
the  special  occasion.  To  reject  open  immorality 
and  to  accept  all  the  rest  without  discrimination,  is 
respectability,  the  religion  of  the  Pharisees.     But 


108  THE  MOEE  EXCELLENT  WAY 

every  respectable  Pharisee  proves  the  truth  of  the 
saying  that  ''  the  good  is  the  enemy  of  the  best ". 
There  is  a  scale  of  fineness  among  things  respect- 
able, and  Christ  insists  that  we  shall  not  be  content 
with  a  second-best,  though  it  be  good.  In  this  way 
He  has  produced  a  special  type  of  man,  more  de- 
licately sensitive  in  choices  than  the  rest.  Such 
men,  whose  spirit  habitually  dwells  among  the 
highest  things,  show  a  rare  spiritual  culture,  an 
exclusiveness,  an  aristocracy  of  spirit,  which  partly 
explains  Christ's  insistence  on  the  narrow  way  and 
the  straight  gate,  and  the  few  that  find  it. 

There  are  certain  great  difficulties  in  the  way  of 
those  who  would  seek  for  this  excellence.  In 
lower  regions  of  thought  and  conduct,  the  law 
judges  for  us,  but  here  the  responsibility  falls  back 
upon  ourselves.  And  at  once  we  have  to  meet 
with  those  fashions  in  moral  and  spiritual  things 
whose  standards  for  the  time  being  set  the  type 
and  frame  the  unwritten  laws  which  govern  the 
mass  of  society.  In  Cromwell's  time  strength  was 
the  ideal  of  England,  in  Dryden's  time  good  nature. 
Now  it  is  the  courtier,  now  the  nun,  who  seems 
most  perfectly  to  embody  human  excellence.  Such 
fashions  make  a  very  subtle  appeal  to  the  shame 
and  vanity  of  many,  who  have  not  the  courage  to 
be  counted  peculiar.  To  others  the  temptation  is 
to  be  in  opposition,  the  revolt  changing  with  the 
fashion  as  subserviently  as  the  compliance  changes. 


THE  MOKE  EXCELLENT  WAY  109 

Thus  the  chief  demand  is  for  moral  and  spiritual 
originality ;  to  have  a  mind  of  one's  own,  and  a 
conscience  of  one's  own,  which  will  enable  one 
to  discover  and  choose  excellence  for  oneself. 

A  deeper  difficulty  in  the  way  of  seekers  after 
excellence,  is  the  fact  that  even  the  best  of  them 
are  to  so  lamentable  an  extent  the  "familiar 
friends  of  sin,"  that  it  has  become  interesting  and 
attractive  to  them,  while  goodness  has  come  to 
seem  insipid.  This  is  partly  the  fault  of  the  good. 
It  makes  one  angry  at  times  to  see  how  deadly 
dull  good  people  may  become  :  we  feel  that  they 
have  no  right  to  be  so  uninteresting  as  they  some- 
times are.  In  still  greater  part  this  aversion  from 
excellence  is  our  own  fault,  and  is  the  result  of 
deliberate  or  thoughtless  pandering  to  our  lower 
nature.  It  is  so  easy  to  get  into  the  way  of  count- 
ing upon  badness  for  interest,  and  imitating  our 
cheapest  literature  by  presenting  the  lower  side  of 
life  in  lights  that  quicken  curiosity  rather  than  re- 
vulsion. Thus  we  have  perverted  our  standards  of 
interest,  and  allowed  our  tastes  to  become  corrupt, 
until  we  instinctively  prefer  the  lower  to  the  higher. 
This  holds  along  the  whole  line  of  moral  and 
spiritual  choices,  and  it  has  degraded  men's  atti- 
tude toward  Jesus  Christ  Himself.  Men  turn  from 
Him,  not  so  much  because  they  are  afraid  of  the  fas- 
cination of  a  beauty  so  rare,  but  because  they  have 
actually  looked  upon  Him  and  felt  no  fascination. 


110  THE  MOEE  EXCELLENT  WAY 

In  the  face  of  such  obstacles  we  turn  anxiously 
to  inquire  as  to  the  secret  of  that  right  instinct 
which  will  recognize  excellence  and  choose  it. 
The  discouraging  element  in  all  this  is  that  to  so 
large  an  extent  the  reasons  that  lie  behind  our 
choice  seem  to  be  so  largely  out  of  our  own  power. 
"Taste  is  morality,"  says  Euskin ;  and  certainly 
that  is  true  of  the  high  moral  and  spiritual  region. 
Sin,  and  all  preference  of  lower  to  higher  courses, 
are  emphatically  in  bad  taste.  But  then,  taste  is 
not  a  matter  of  prescribed  rules,  which  can  be 
enforced  or  made  convincing  to  a  mind  that  does 
not  spontaneously  admit  its  canons.  Just  as  those 
who  know  good  art  from  bad  are  quite  sure  of 
their  judgment,  but  cannot  tell  why  they  so  judge, 
nor  communicate  their  judgment  to  others  who 
prefer  the  poorer  art ;  so  this  moral  and  spiritual 
taste  is  a  kind  of  high  fastidiousness,  a  new  sense, 
a  delicate  and  often  incommunicable  faculty  of 
discernment.  Doubtless,  like  the  taste  for  good 
art,  it  arises  from  obscure  sources  in  ancestry, 
natural  sensibility,  and  education.  Thus  it  appears 
to  be  a  hopeless  quest  except  for  the  select  few 
who  possess  it ;  as  unattainable  as  the  shape  of 
features  or  the  colour  of  eyes.  King  Arthur  pro- 
nounced the  quest  of  the  Grail  too  high  for  many 
of  his  knights,  and  plainly  told  them  that  they  were 
neither  Galahads  nor  Parsifals.  So,  for  many  of 
us,  the  most  excellent  things  seem  too  fine.     Our 


THE  MOEE  EXCELLENT  WAY  111 

want  of  spiritual  finger-tips  and  delicacy  of  instinct, 
seems  to  debar  us  from  the  quest. 

Yet  that  is  not  so  true  as  it  seems.  Instincts 
may  be  acquired  and  tastes  rectified  within  a  life- 
time. These  are  the  last  result  of  certain  ways  of 
dealing  with  life  which  are  open  to  all.  Those  who 
live  worthily  among  plain  and  ordinary  issues,  who 
train  their  minds  to  think  accurately  and  dis- 
passionately, who  keep  their  eyes  open  and  gain 
experience  of  the  world,  come  in  the  end  to  a 
spontaneous  and  immediate  discernment  of  the 
lower  and  the  higher  ways. 

Still  more  surely  is  instinct  affected  by  the  moral 
discipline  of  life.  He  who  faithfully  and  always 
chooses  the  course  which  seems  to  him  right,  gains 
in  moral  perception,  and  passes  on  from  cruder  to 
finer  discernment.  The  instinct  for  the  things  that 
are  excellent  is  the  last  product  of  a  life  that  has 
been  moulded  consistently  by  right  choices  in  cases 
of  obvious  right  and  wrong. 

But  above  all  there  is  the  power  of  love, 
which  Paul  here  has  included  in  his  prayer  for 
the  Philippians.  Love  may  at  first  sight  seem 
a  doubtful  guide.  Is  it  not  passionate,  blind,  and 
rash  ?  Yet  love  is  after  all  the  only  power  in  all 
the  world  that  is  delicate  enough  to  create  the 
instinct  for  excellence.  That  was  Jesus  Christ's 
secret  long  before  it  was  Paul's.  He  set  love  free 
upon  the  earth,  and  the  eff'ects  of  that  new  love 


112  THE  MOEE  EXCELLENT  WAY 

which  was  flooding  human  life  were  wonderful  in- 
deed to  the  world,  and  not  less  surprising  to  those 
into  whose  hearts  it  had  entered.  For,  in  the  secret 
alchemy  of  God,  they  found  that  in  their  souls  love 
was  transmuted  into  knowledge.  Loving  much, 
and  knowing  themselves  greatly  loved,  they  arrived 
at  an  accurate  and  direct  sense  of  the  distinction 
between  what  was  finer  and  what  was  poorer.  It 
is  not  too  much  to  say  that  all  the  more  delicate 
judgments  of  the  world  have  arisen  out  of  Christian 
love,  which  leads  all  who  are  faithful  to  it  towards 
the  approval  of  the  things  that  are  excellent. 


STRENGTH  AND  JOY 

"  The  joy  of  the  Lord  is  your  strength." — Nehemiah  viii.  10. 

It  was  in  the  days  of  the  return  from  Babylon  that 
the  two  leaders,  Nehemiah  the  soldier  and  Ezra  the 
scholar,  came  upon  the  page  of  history.  The 
student  had  been  waiting  for  a  chance  to  read  the 
law,  but  the  time  was  not  yet  come.  Nehemiah 
had  his  rougher  part  to  play  first,  and  the  wondrous 
days  of  ''  sword  and  trowel  "  followed.  Now,  that 
work  done,  the  modest  patriot  yielded  at  once  to  the 
student,  and  the  law  was  read  to  the  people.  But 
the  faces  of  the  multitude  grew  graver.  An  oc- 
casional sob  was  heard  as  law  solemnly  followed 
law,  and  they  began  to  realize  the  conditions  on 
which  they  might  dwell  within  the  new-built  walls. 
Finally,  there  broke  forth  the  great  cry  of  a  nation 
in  tears. 

This  was  disappointing  enough  to  the  two  heroes. 
To  them  the  law  was  familiar,  and  all  their  work 
had  been  done  on  those  high  ideals.  But  the  crowd 
was  ignorant,  and  in  the  reaction  after  their  exciting 
labours  they  were  ready  for  any  discouragement. 

But  the  leaders  knew  how  much  remained  to  be 

(113)  8 


114  STKENGTH  AND  JOY 

done,  and  that  strength  was  needed  now  more  than 
ever.  Yet  there  was  only  one  way  of  strength. 
There  could  be  no  escape  from  the  laws  which  had 
discouraged  them.  Through  the  law  the  people 
must  pass  on  to  the  heart  of  God,  and  there  find 
joy.  The  people  were  learning  God's  laws  with 
consternation  ;  the  leaders  knew  His  character  and 
heart.  And  they  knew  that  He  who  had  given 
the  sombre  law,  was  joyous  for  evermore.  At 
the  heart  of  things,  in  the  depths  of  the  universe, 
there  was  unfailing  gladness. 

There  are  obvious  lessons  here.  Keligion,  viewed 
from  a  distance,  is  ever  sombre  and  gloomy.  Faced, 
accepted,  attempted,  it  reveals  daily  delights. 
Many  a  man  stands  shuddering  at  religion,  who 
if  he  would  but  boldly  face  it,  would  lose  all  his 
fears  and  weakness.  For  true  strength  and  true 
joy  are  essentially  moral.  It  is  through  law,  and 
not  without  law,  that  any  trustworthy  gladness 
must  come.     Character  is  the  granite  rock  of  life. 

All  this  depends  ultimately  on  the  character 
of  God.  There  could  be  no  possible  joy  for  man 
in  the  worship  of  Moloch.  But  here  man  reaches 
the  enthusiasm  of  a  divine  gladness.  He  has  dis- 
covered the  secret  of  the  Lord,  and  is  filled  with 
the  ''  inward  glee "  of  those  who  have  penetrated 
behind  the  sorrow,  the  severity,  and  the  sin  of  the 
world,  and  found  its  God  rejoicing. 

But  the  special  lesson  of  the  text  is  that  of  the 


STEENGTH  AND  JOY  115 

connexion  between  strength  and  joy.  Life  demands 
of  us  all  that  we  be  strong,  and  our  hearts  respond 
in  a  great  longing.  To  be  able  to  fight  and  to 
labour  and  to  wait,  to  be  competent  for  our  tasks 
— what  heart  does  not  answer  to  the  delight  in 
strength  ?  Those  whose  strength  is  failing  and  who 
feel  at  once  their  call  to  labour  and  their  weakness 
to  achieve  it,  have  ever  longed  most  passionately  for 
strength.  They  think  enviously  and  yet  with  a  kind 
of  glory  of  the  strength  of  others  :  they  take  the 
strongest  for  their  heroes  and  imitate  them  as  best 
they  can.  But  there  are  many  sorts  of  strength, 
and  some  of  them  are  of  little  worth. 

There  is  natural  robustness,  mere  weight  of 
muscle,  unimpaired  health,  and  unbroken  success. 
This  had  been  the  kind  of  strength  which  the 
Israelites  had  exercised  in  their  building.  The 
sheer  force  of  the  work  had  carried  them  on  in  the 
excitement  of  the  hour,  and  it  had  been  enough  for 
that  labour.  But  now  they  collapsed  when  they 
realized  life's  finer  tasks  and  more  exacting  demands. 
Such  blind  strength  is  coarse-grained,  often  feeling- 
less  and  inconsiderate,  never  delicate  enough  for 
more  than  the  rougher  tasks. 

Again  there  is  the  passionate  strength  of  sorrow. 
Every  one  knows  the  amazing  feats  which  des- 
perate men  may  perform ;  and,  when  the  first  out- 
burst of  such  emotion  has  passed,  it  is  still  possible 
to  be  strong  in  a  dogged,  hopeless  fashion,  resolute 


116  STEENGTH  AND  JOY 

without  enthusiasm.  Such  strength  might  easily 
have  been  sought  for  by  these  Israelites,  now  that 
their  old  strength  was  broken.  These  laws  were 
impossible,  and  there  was  no  use  trying  to  please 
their  God.  Yet,  in  a  kind  of  Puritanic  despair 
they  might  have  gone  bravely  on  to  their  doom, 
as  many  a  hopeless  spirit  has  done  since  then. 

It  was  to  men  standing  among  such  alternatives 
that  the  words  were  spoken.  The  Law-giver  was 
also  the  Eejoicer,  and  He  would  have  men  to  rejoice 
in  His  joy  and  so  be  strong.  The  very  fact  of  being 
glad  would  restore  heartiness  to  them  and  exhilarate 
their  flagging  spirits.  But  that  is  a  poor  rendering 
of  the  text.  If  they  are  to  hear  the  laws  of  their 
God  and  still  be  glad,  it  must  be  because  under- 
neath the  stern  mask  of  commandment  there  is 
a  smile  on  the  Law-giver's  face.  They  are  to  rejoice 
with  their  God  while  they  obey  His  laws. 

Such  strength  is  intelligent  and  not  blind.  If  we 
have  seen  the  Creator  rejoicing  in  His  works,  there 
is  something  to  be  glad  about.  Behind  the  joy  lies 
not  merely  muscle  or  emotion,  but  reason  and  right 
thought.  As  the  walls  of  Troy  were  supposed  to 
have  risen  to  the  music  of  their  builders'  singing, 
as  all  works  of  art  have  been  defined  as  the  ex- 
pression of  their  maker's  joy ;  so  men  who  take 
their  tasks  from  God,  sharing  His  joy  of  creation, 
rejoice  in  them  and  do  them  well. 

Such  strength  is  also  unselfish.     God  is  blessed 


STEENGTH  AND  JOY  117 

because  He  is  for  ever  blessing.  The  very  meaning 
of  the  Cross  of  Christ  is  that  God's  unselfishness  is 
for  ever  overcoming  the  sorrow  of  the  world.  It  is 
this  generous  joy,  rejoicing  in  doing  good  to  others, 
which  alone  gives  real  strength  to  character.  In 
a  world  like  this,  where  there  is  so  much  misery, 
it  must  sometimes  occur  to  every  happy  spirit  to 
ask  whether  any  man  has  a  right  to  enjoy  himself. 
He  has  such  a  right  only  on  condition  that  his  is 
the  generous  joy  of  the  Lord.  ''  We  may  dare  to 
be  very  happy  while  doing  our  utmost  to  help 
a  brother." 

Further,  this  is  peaceful  strength.  With  God 
there  is  no  spasmodic  effort.  The  heavens  are 
calm  above  earth's  strained  and  anxious  life.  The 
strongest  forces  are  ever  quiet,  and  all  fuss  and 
restless  violence  of  effort  are  signs  of  weakness. 
In  God,  by  faith  we  do  enter  into  His  rest,  and  are 
*' strong  in  grave  peace".  God's  peace  within  a 
soul  makes  room  for  joy,  and  to  be  glad  thus 
quietly  is  to  be  strong. 

Lastly,  this  strength  is  victorious  ;  it  is  strength 
which  has  been  reached  through  weakness.  God, 
as  we  have  seen  Him  in  Jesus  Christ,  has  conquered 
sorrow  and  death,  and  revealed  a  joy  achieved 
through  pain,  and  a  strength  made  perfect  in  weak- 
ness. It  is  such  strength  that  is  found  in  the  joy 
of  the  Lord,  for  all  our  joy  also  has  in  its  heart  some 
conquered  sorrow.     We  can  rejoice  only  by  over- 


118  STEENGTH  AND  JOY 

coming,  and   the   strength  we  reach   thus  is   the 
strength  of  victorious  men. 

Such  is  this  glad  strength  which  is  to  be  found 
for  men  in  God.  If  it  be  available,  it  must  be  our 
duty  to  possess  it.  The  world  has  already  too 
many  of  the  weak  and  sad  in  it,  and  has  certainly 
no  need  of  more.  This  is  a  plain  word  to  all  the 
neurotic,  and  to  that  very  much  over-indulged 
member  of  society,  the  weak  brother.  If  in  any 
measure  you  have  it  in  your  choice,  then  it  is  a 
great  and  urgent  duty  to  be  glad  and  to  be  strong. 
To  swell  voluntarily  the  ranks  of  the  inefficient, 
to  add  another  burden  to  the  immense  load  which 
the  heart  of  the  world  already  bears,  is  an  unmanly 
and  a  shameful  thing.  To  all  men  and  women 
who  are  tempted  to  trade  on  their  weakness,  to  be 
exacting,  to  expect  and  demand  special  terms  and 
allowances,  the  great  words  are  spoken.  You  have 
no  right  to  your  weakness  and  your  gloom ;  arise 
and  sing  ye  that  dwell  in  the  dust ;  play  the  man 
and  rejoice.  Your  God  rejoices,  Christ  is  risen, 
and  the  hosts  of  heaven  are  singing  a  new  song. 
There  is  gladness  at  the  heart  of  things.  It  is  for 
you  to  believe  it  and  to  win  the  victory  of  faith. 
For  those  who  do  believe  it,  and  rejoice  in  God, 
out  of  weakness  a.re  indeed  made  strong. 


THE  ELUSIVENESS  OF  DESIRE 

"The  mirage  shall  become  a  pool." — Isaiah  xxxv.  7. 

The  most  fantastic  and  surely  the  most  cruel  of  all 
natural  phenomena  is  the  mirage  of  the  desert. 
The  sands  of  Africa,  and  the  clay  and  stones  of  the 
Syrian  desert,  spread  their  vast  expanse  of  tawny 
or  leaden  colour  to  the  sun,  and  the  hapless 
traveller  whose  store  of  water  has  failed  him,  at 
last  abandons  the  vain  hope  of  an  oasis.  Suddenly 
in  front  of  him  there  is  the  sparkle  of  sun  on  lap- 
ping waves.  It  is  a  lake  with  palm-trees,  or  an  in- 
land sea,  with  wooded  islands  and  their  reflections 
clear  in  the  waters  as  the  ripples  die  down  to 
calm.  With  tongue  cracked  and  bloodshot  eyes  he 
staggers  on  towards  that  magic  that  is  fairer  and 
more  delicate  than  any  real  scenery.  It  recedes 
before  his  advance,  and  as  the  fever  rises  he  strips 
off  his  clothing  piece  by  piece.  Afterwards  they 
find  him,  naked  and  dead,  on  the  hot  ground  where 
the  waters  had  shone  before  his  eyes. 

In  Hebrew  literature  there  is  much  reference 
to  the  desert.  The  usual  effect  of  it  upon  Israel's 
thought  was  to  teach  her  to  appreciate  her  oasis- 

(119) 


120  THE  ELUSIVENESS  OF  DESIEE 

land  of  Syria.  It  has  often  been  remarked  that 
she  exaggerated  the  beauty  and  fertility  of  her  land, 
but  it  has  to  be  remembered  that  those  trees  and 
watersprings  and  mountains  are  seen  and  described 
by  men  whose  instinctive  sense  of  the  surrounding 
desert  heightened  their  charms  by  contrast.  This, 
however,  is  a  bolder  stroke.  The  writer  here  is 
thinking  not  of  escape  from  the  desert  but  attack 
upon  it.  Ezekiel's  waters  from  beneath  the  altar 
are  to  reclaim  the  desert  of  the  Dead  Sea.  But 
this  goes  farther  still,  facing  those  lies  and  delu- 
sions which  are  the  most  exquisitely  torturing  de- 
vices of  the  desert's  cruel  heart,  and  forcing  the 
mirage  itself  back  to  truth. 

We  need  not  pause  upon  the  historical  interpre- 
tation of  the  metaphor  for  Israel,  for  the  promise 
is  of  application  wide  as  human  life.  It  is  not  the 
kingdom  of  God  coming  upon  life  when  it  appears 
grey  and  worthless,  to  give  zest  and  the  promise  of 
good,  that  is  here  depicted.  It  is  life  appearing  good 
and  full  of  zest  that  calls  forth  desire,  and  then 
failing  us.  It  is  the  disillusion  and  treachery,  the 
false  promises  of  happiness  and  satisfaction  lead- 
ing only  to  disappointed  hopes.  We  need  not  pose 
as  superior  persons  who  are  above  such  things. 
''  We  live  by  admiration  "  ;  we  need  desire  and 
the  satisfaction  of  desire,  and  we  cannot  be  our 
best  without  it. 

Well,  there  is  no  one  of  ripe  years  who  is  not 


THE  ELUSIVENESS  OF  DESIEE  121 

quite  well  accustomed  to  see  the  waters  of  his  de- 
sire turn  to  mirage.  Some  one  has  said  that  most 
of  the  pools  at  which  we  slake  our  thirst  are  turgid. 
But  that  is  not  the  worst.  The  worst  is  that  when 
we  come  to  the  pools  they  are  not  there.  This  is 
so  common  in  experience  that  the  repetition  of  it 
sounds  commonplace.  Mirage  is  not  a  metaphor 
of  high  tragedy,  it  is  an  everyday  fact.  We  live 
by  admiration,  but  either  we  fail  to  reach  what  we 
have  admired,  or  reaching  it  find  it  no  longer  ad- 
mirable. Either  "  suddenly,  as  rare  things  will,  it 
vanished,"  or  ''  achievement  lacks  a  gracious  some- 
what ". 

It  is  but  natural  that  this  disillusion  should  have 
called  forth  voices  in  the  wilderness.  Job  will  ever 
have  his  comforters,  more  or  less  wise  and  relevant. 
There  are  realists  who  accept  the  situation,  and 
appear  to  find  comfort  in  literature  and  speech 
about  the  vanity  of  human  wishes.  Some  of  them 
are  ever  laboriously  reminding  us  of  the  mirage  of 
life,  and  damping  the  ardour  of  young  enthusiasts 
with  their  cynicism — ''Ah,  my  young  friends,  but 
wait  till  you  are  as  old  as  we  are  !  "  Nobler  voices 
too,  there  are,  crying  in  the  night  of  man's  discom- 
fiture— voices  from  brave,  dark  hearts  that  shout 
courage  amidst  the  disillusion. 

As  one  by  one  thy  hopes  depart, 
Be  resolute  and  calm, 

or — '*  We  are  not  meant  to  succeed  ;  failure  is  the 


122  THE  ELUSIVENESS  OF  DESIBE 

fate  allotted  .  .  .  but  God  forbid  it  should  be  man 
that  grumbles  ".  But  such  comfort  is  not  enough. 
We  do  complain  ;  and,  if  we  are  being  cheated  by 
the  false  appearances  of  things,  we  are  in  no  mood 
to  accept  the  situation  complacently.  Then,  while 
we  stand  angrily  facing  the  trick  and  sham  of  life, 
with  the  mocking  laughter  of  the  universe  in  our 
ears,  God's  great  voice  is  heard,  ^'  The  mirage  shall 
become  a  pool ".  Here  is  a  new  thing — the  attack 
upon  the  facts  themselves  by  the  only  one  who  has 
power  to  change  them.  It  is  like  God's  great  way. 
He  is  too  wise  and  true  to  deny  the  obvious  fact. 
The  poor  world  has  been  so  often  cheated  that  it 
will  never  trust  any  light-hearted  comforters.  But 
this  voice  acknowledges  the  fact  that  '*  the  world 
passeth  away  ".  *'  What  is  your  life  ?  it  is  even  a 
mirage,"  it  says.  But  then  it  adds,  "  The  mirage 
shall  become  a  pool ".  It  faces  the  worst,  and  then 
raises  the  shout  of  redemption.  Disillusion  is  true, 
but  it  is  not  the  last  word  there  is  to  say.  The 
dream  and  the  desire  of  life  have  proved  false  for  a 
time,  but  they  shall  yet  turn  out  true.  In  them  we 
have  touched  reality,  and  God  can  yet  confirm  it. 

The  promise  of  life  was  pools  of  water,  satisfying 
its  desires  for  health  and  beauty,  for  coolness  and 
rest.  Christ  is  often  misunderstood,  as  if  he  were 
laying  new  spiritual  burdens  on  the  poor  children 
of  desire.  Eeally  he  offers  rest.  He  offers  not 
another  thirst  for  an  ideal  still  more  unattainable. 


THE  ELUSIVENESS  OF  DESIEE  123 

but  living  water  which  will  slake  the  soul's  thirst. 
He  offers  not  another  added  energy  to  the  spirit 
already  tired,  but  the  coolness  of  quiet  waters  and 
the  shade  of  the  trees  of  God.  He  offers  not  a 
morbid  holiness  but  a  healthful  and  natural  life. 

The  disillusioned  and  disappointed  will  naturally 
distrust  such  offers  as  these.  For  them  the  green- 
sward is  faded,  and  the  colour  and  radiance  are  gone 
out  of  life's  vision,  leaving  but  the  harsh  monotony 
of  the  desert.  Desire,  whether  granted  or  refused, 
has  cheated  them,  until  they  have  finally  made  up 
their  mind  to  deaden  down  its  fires  :  they  do  not 
intend  to  be  betrayed  again.  But  Christ  insists 
upon  reopening  the  question.  What  you  saw  and 
desired  was  real  good,  though  the  form  in  which 
you  sought  it  may  not  have  been  the  best  for  you. 
But  the  keen  and  poignant  sense  of  life  which 
seemed  to  vanish  has  not  really  disappeared.  All 
that  you  wanted  to  make  life  perfect,  God  still  has 
in  store  for  you.  At  His  right  hand  there  are 
pleasures  for  ever  more. 

All  we  have  willed  or  hoped  or  dreamed  of  good,  shall  exist ; 

Not  its  semblance,  but  itself ;  no  beauty,  nor  good,  nor  power 
Whose  voice  has  gone  forth,  but  each  survives  for  the  melodist, 

When  eternity  confirms  the  conception  of  an  hour. 

And  if  the  question  still  be  asked,  when  these 
things  shall  be,  the  answer  probably  expected  is, 
that  this  life  is  not  all,  but  only  the  beginning. 
Here  we  are  disciplined  by  desires,  there  we  shall 


124  THE  ELUSIVENESS  OF  DESIKE 

be  satisfied  with  fulfilments.  It  is  a  legitimate  and 
worthy  answer.  One  of  the  most  powerful  argu- 
ments for  immortality  is  just  this  twofold  fact,  that 
in  our  desires  we  catch  passing  glimpses  of  convinc- 
ing and  evident  good,  and  that  in  many  cases  these 
are  all  which  is  allowed  us.  To  doubt  that  these  are 
waiting  for  fulfilment  in  some  life  complementary 
to  this,  is  to  pronounce  all  experience  meaningless. 
But  besides  that,  when  the  love  and  power  of  Christ 
enter  into  life  here,  they  change  the  whole  aspect 
of  it.  So  vital  and  keen  a  thing  is  faith,  that  those 
who  believe  find  not  desire  only  but  fulfilment  of 
desire,  and  that  increasing  with  the  years.  We 
shall  all  find  some  things  which  we  have  desired  as 
pools  of  water  turn  out  to  be  mirage.  Those  are 
wise  and  happy  who  resist  the  temptation  to  rebel, 
and  who  trust  this  great  word  of  God's  reassurance, 
The  mirage  shall  become  a  pool. 


THE  PHANTASMAGORIA  OF  LIFE 

"The  mirage  shall  become  a  pool." — Isaiah  xxxv.  7. 

Apart  from  the  treachery  of  the  mh'age  which 
offers  illusive  waters  to  thirsty  lips,  there  is  also  its 
confusion  of  the  real  and  the  unreal  worlds.  East 
of  Damascus  it  may  be  seen  for  hours  together, 
changing  the  grey  vacancy  of  the  horizon  into  an 
unceasing  restless  kaleidoscopic  spectacle  of  swiftly 
changing  form  and  colour.  All  sorts  of  familiar 
scenes  suggest  themselves  to  the  imagination  as 
picture  succeeds  picture.  But  the  general  effect  is 
so  powerful  as  to  defy  even  the  sanest  mind  to 
retain  its  sense  of  reality. 

This  aspect  of  the  mirage  suggests  a  nobler  inter- 
pretation of  the  text  than  that  of  desire.  We  have, 
after  all,  a  deeper  quarrel  with  life  than  its  false 
promises  of  satisfaction  and  happiness.  We  demand 
a  stable  and  abiding  sense  of  a  real  world  in  which 
we  are  dealing  with  realities.  In  the  midst  of  many 
interests  and  pursuits  there  come  moments  when 
the  whole  sense  of  life  fails  us  and  seems  to  eva- 
porate. Shakespeare  knew  the  feeling  well,  and 
has  told  us  in  words  whose  familiarity  proves  how 

(125) 


126         THE  PHANTASMAGOKIA  OF  LIFE 

true  has  been  their  appeal,  of  life  as  '*  a  tale  told 
by  an  idiot,  signifying  nothing,"  and  ourselves  as 
"  such  stuff  as  dreams  are  made  of".  Sometimes 
this  comes  as  a  general  reaction  from  our  habitual 
trust  in  the  soundness  of  our  ordinary  views. 
Sometimes  it  is  a  sharp  and  sudden  experience, 
when  some  event,  long  looked  forward  to,  seems 
unreal  when  it  comes,  and  in  spite  of  all  persuasions 
to  the  contrary  we  find  ourselves  among  cloud-work, 
each  man  walking  in  a  vain  show. 

The  great  idealists  have  sought  to  safeguard 
man's  belief  in  the  reality  of  his  spiritual  experience 
by  the  most  daring  philosophies  ;  asserting,  in  face 
of  all  such  faintings  of  the  spirit  as  we  have  men- 
tioned, that  the  ideas  dwell  in  heaven,  and  that 
thought  is  the  only  reality.  Christian  optimists, 
like  Kingsley  and  George  Macdonald,  have  dogma- 
tized on  the  courageous  principle  that  such  convic- 
tions are  so  beautiful  that  they  must  be  true.  We 
are  grateful  for  all  such  voices,  yet  times  of  doubt 
recur.  Are  we  indeed  children  of  eternity,  lying 
on  our  backs  in  the  cave  as  Plato  says,  and  seeing 
but  the  reflection  of  things  on  the  roof,  yet  knowing 
that  the  realities  are  sure?  or  are  we  but  ants 
tumbling  on  the  huge  ant-heap,  taking  ourselves 
with  an  absurd  seriousness,  and  dreaming  great 
things  ?  Do  our  sins  and  virtues,  our  struggles  and 
resistances,  our  joys  and  sorrows  really  matter  ?  or 
are  these  all  but  the  cloud-work  of  the  desert  ?    The 


THE  PHANTASMAGOEIA  OF  LIFE         127 

voice  of  God  assures  us  that  the  mirage  shall  be- 
come a  pool,  real  enough  to  live  for  or  to  die  for. 
That  is  what  Jesus  Christ  has  done  for  the  world. 

Let  us  look  at  one  or  two  details. 

1.  Our  tvork  often  induces  a  sense  of  unreality. 
Weary  toilers,  whether  successful  or  unsuccessful, 
feel  the  vanity  even  of  finished  works,  and  still 
more  the  vanity  of  unfinished  works.  Many  a  man 
has  built  his  tower,  done  what  he  set  out  to  do,  and 
the  tower  falls  and  his  labour  is  lost ;  or  worse  still, 
his  tower  stands  only  to  shame  him  with  its  imper- 
fection, for  it  is  not  the  thing  he  had  designed. 
The  better  the  workman,  the  more  unsatisfied  he  is 
with  his  finished  works.  And  then  how  much  has 
to  be  left  unfinished.  The  man's  designs  are  greater 
than  the  length  of  his  life.  '*  Ambition  had  set  its 
hold  on  him.  He  wanted  to  do  more  than  there 
was  time  for.  Like  many  of  us  he  began  by  think- 
ing that  life  was  longer  than  it  is." 

Well,  finished  or  unfinished,  satisfactory  or  un- 
satisfactory, here  is  God's  verdict  upon  man's  honest 
labour.  He  approves  the  purpose  of  a  life,  and  His 
approval  establishes  the  work  of  our  hands  upon  us. 
He  understands  what  you  meant  to  do,  and  knows 
the  pattern  showed  you  in  secret,  after  which  you 
have  been  striving.  That,  in  God's  sight,  is  reality. 
It  is  work,  and  has  eternal  value.  No  faithful  toil 
can  ever  really  be  futile.  This  assurance  brings  a 
man  in  among  the  abiding  things,  for  it  tells  him 


128         THE  PHANTASMAGOKIA  OF  LIFE 

that  he  has  built  an  house  not  made  with  hands 
that  is  eternal. 

2.  Character  is  often  a  most  tantalizing  and 
lamentable  mirage.  We  see  our  goal,  apparently 
possible  and  within  our  reach,  and  across  the  desert 
we  pant  after  it.  But  which  of  us  has  attained,  or 
is  anything  resembling  the  man  he  fain  would  be  ? 
The  flitting  and  evanescent  image  of  our  noblest 
manhood  often  dims  and  vanishes.  Old  tempta- 
tions recurring  out  of  due  season  draw  us  down 
from  high  hopes  to  low  levels  of  actual  conduct. 
Honesty,  justice,  purity,  even  when  we  have  reached 
them  in  some  degree,  are  a  compromise  rather  than 
a  victory.  Our  high  efforts  end  ignominiously  in  the 
mere  keeping  up  of  appearances.  At  times  a  subtle 
doubt  invades,  and  we  find  ourselves  persisting, 
without  knowing  why  we  do  so,  in  a  moral  struggle 
of  whose  worth  we  are  by  no  means  certain. 

Again  God's  word  is  that  that  mirage  also  shall 
become  a  pool.  One  day  we  shall  be  sure  with  an 
indisputable  certainty  of  the  worth  of  the  struggle, 
and  of  the  glory  of  moral  victory.  What  good 
hope  are  you  now  clinging  to  in  your  disgusted  and 
disillusioned  heart  ?  He  will  ''  take  the  distorted 
thing  in  His  hands  and  make  something  gallant  of 
it  ".  God  draws  out  the  best  that  is  in  a  man  and 
confirms  it  upon  him.  Even  here  this  may  be  felt 
and  seen ;  and,  beyond,  we  shall  find  that  we  have 
been  fighting  better  than  we  knew. 


THE  PHANTASMAGOEIA  OE  LIFE         129 

3.  Faith,  once  taken  to  be  the  surest  of  realities, 
is  now  discredited  in  many  minds.  It  seems  a 
fantastic  dreamland,  which  wakening  intellect  has 
discovered  to  be  wild  and  impossible.  Old  forms 
and  securities  of  faith  have  proved  illusory.  ''  Olym- 
pus and  Sinai  are  deserts."  The  great  mirage  of 
Christianity  itself  is  over.  Jesus  Christ  remains 
but  as  the  memory  of  a  dream,  a  fair  form  in  art, 
a  hope  from  which  the  light  has  faded,  a  star  van- 
ished in  the  night. 

This  mirage  also  shall  become  a  pool  of  living 
waters.  In  some  form  or  other,  Christian  faith  is 
going  to  prove  true.  Where  the  waters  that  once 
promised  refreshment  have  vanished,  and  where  now 
there  are  only  deserts  of  intellectual  routine,  streams 
of  vital  truth  will  flow  once  more,  never  again  to  fail. 
Looking  back  when  the  change  is  completed,  you 
will  not  count  it  a  change  from  reality  to  unreality, 
but  from  an  imperfect  vision  to  the  very  truth  of 
God  and  of  life.  There  is  a  faith  for  you  which 
will  never  need  to  be  abandoned,  a  sure  and  eternal 
truth  on  the  strength  of  which  you  may  live  and 
die. 

4.  Each  of  these  is  but  a  detail  in  the  great 
mirage  of  life  itself.  The  world,  with  the  brilliance 
of  its  spectacle  and  the  heave  and  fall  of  its  surge 
— we  have  found  it  out  to  be  but  cloud,  and  still 
we  gaze.  Real  or  not,  its  wonder  and  its  beauty 
fascinate  us  and  hold  our  eyes.     And  heaven,  as 

9 


130         THE  PHANTASMAGOEIA  OF  LIFE 

you  once  imagined  it,  that  last  and  most  delicate 
mirage  of  all  —  you  used  to  be  thrilled  with  its 
splendour ;  now  you  turn  from  its  gaudy  and  in- 
adequate cloudland.  You  have  found  out  the  earth 
and  the  heavens. 

Yes,  but  beneath  such  shows  of  things  there  are 
realities — the  new  earth  and  the  new  heaven — an 
earth  where  life  is  real,  a  heaven  where  the  real  life 
of  earth  is  made  eternal.  For  Jesus  Christ  is  Lord 
of  Eealities,  and  He  is  Master  of  earth  and  heaven, 
who  '*  maketh  all  things  new  ".  He  knows  how  we 
all  dream,  and  how  futile  the  dream  appears  on  our 
awakening.  But  through  it  all  there  remain  for 
all  of  us  the  facts  of  faith  and  love  and  service. 
These  things  are  no  dream,  though  on  them  also 
for  a  moment  we  may  lose  our  hold.  Yet  for  the 
faithful  these  will  prove  so  real  that  they  will  give 
reality  to  all  the  rest  that  tends  so  readily  to  fade. 
And  at  last  comes  death.  "  After  the  fever  of  life, 
after  wearinesses  and  sicknesses,  fightings  and  des- 
pondings,  languor  and  fretfulness,  struggling  and 
succeeding  ;  after  all  the  changes  and  chances  of 
this  troubled  unhealthy  state,  at  last  comes  death,  at 
length  the  great  white  throne,  at  length  the  beatific 
vision." 


A  NEW  POINT  OF  VIEW 

{The  Ascension-Day) 

"While  they  beheld,  He  was  taken  up;  and  a  cloud  received 
Him  out  of  their  sight." — Acts  i.  9. 

The  story  of  the  life  of  Jesus  falls  into  three  parts, 
(1)  a  man  on  earth  like  other  men,  (2)  still  on  the 
earth,  but  now  unearthly  and  occasional,  (3)  free  from 
the  earth  and  identified  with  the  life  of  God. 
The  Ascension  narrative  marks  the  change  from  the 
second  to  the  third  of  these,  cutting  off  His  earthly 
from  His  heavenly  life.  The  stories  of  the  days  after 
the  Eesurrection  tell  of  an  experience  which  was 
indeed  comforting  but  yet  perplexing.  Men  were 
sure  that  Jesus  still  lived,  but  they  needed  a 
further  assurance  which  would  give  stability  and 
the  sense  of  permanence  to  faith.  They  had  been 
living,  both  before  and  after  His  death,  in  the  con- 
stant expectation  of  surprises.  But  now  no  sur- 
prise could  happen  any  more.  Peace  had  come, 
such  as  can  come  only  when  the  Best  is  also  the 
Highest,  when  the  Son  of  God  is  at  God's  right 
hand. 

(131) 


132  A  NEW  POINT  OF  VIEW 

We  need  not  trouble  ourselves  about  curious 
questions  of  detail.  Scientific  speculations  regard- 
ing matter  and  spirit  are  irrelevant  here  :  critical 
questions  and  the  laborious  attempt  to  piece  to- 
gether the  various  accounts  into  one  consistent  nar- 
rative are  equally  out  of  place.  There  is  indeed 
in  the  Gospels  a  manifest  reserve,  and  even  a  care- 
lessness as  to  consistency  of  detail,  which  send  us 
back  upon  the  heart  of  the  story.  The  eye  cannot 
follow  Him  on  that  day  when  a  cloud  receives  Him 
out  of  our  sight.  But  certain  things  remain,  truths 
about  God  and  our  human  life,  for  which  the  story 
stands.     Four  of  these  are  : — 

1.  Ewrtlis  view  of  Heaven. — (''  Gazing  up  into 
Heaven.")  Heaven  has  ever  seemed  a  place  in- 
accessible to  earth.  The  truth  is,  when  we  speak 
frankly,  that  spirituality  is  beyond  us.  The  natural 
man  has  indeed  glimpses  of  the  spiritual  world,  but 
he  is  incapable  of  sustained  or  satisfying  vision  of 
it.  It  is  not  even  congenial  to  him.  We  love  the 
earth  and  understand  it  well,  but  heaven  we  neither 
understand  nor  love.  It  is  difficult  to  believe  in, 
still  more  difficult  to  realize,  and  absolutely  impos- 
sible to  live  for,  leaving  all  for  its  sake. 

Part  of  the  reason  for  this  is  the  want  of  the 
personal  element.  Spirituality  without  that  is  al- 
ways tenuous  and  bleak.  When  a  good  man  enters 
heaven,  its  aspect  is  to  some  extent  changed  for 
his  friends.      He  is  there,  and  the  way  by  which 


A  NEW  POINT  OF  VIEW  133 

he  went  seems  open.  Very  different  are  the  sorts 
of  entrance.  Some,  like  storm-beaten  vessels,  hardly 
struggle  into  port.  Some,  in  perfect  trim,  finish 
their  voyage  gaily,  the  white  sails  taking  the  even- 
ing light.  Some  chosen  spirits  make  us  feel  that 
for  them  the  heavens  are  impatient ;  and  these, 
with  their  pale,  eager  faces  of  the  dying,  show  us 
far  glimpses  through  the  open  gates. 

But  above  all  the  dying,  Jesus  Christ  did  this 
for  us  when  He  went  to  His  own  place.  As  the 
Resurrection  silences  for  ever  all  talk  of  a  "  lonely 
Syrian  grave,"  so  the  Ascension  keeps  us  from  losing 
Him  among  the  sombre  mysteries  of  death.  His 
future  is  no  ''grand  perhaps".  He  had  been  as  a 
man  journeying  into  a  far  country,  and  now  He  has 
been  welcomed  home  after  that  long  wandering.  It 
was  His  design  to  make  heaven  clear  and  homely 
to  the  eyes  of  earth  ;  and  the  disciples  now,  looking 
upward,  see  Jesus  Christ  there  and  know  it  for  their 
homeland.  He  has  absorbed  into  Himself  our  whole 
thought  of  heaven  :  to  die  is  to  go  to  be  with 
Christ.  It  is  confessedly  difficult  to  believe  in 
spiritual  things,  here  or  hereafter.  But  it  is  not 
difficult  to  believe  in  Jesus  Christ.  It  is  easy  to 
believe  in  Him,  and  He  is  there.  Into  that  strange 
land  He  is  thus  the  way,  and  since  He  entered  it 
earth's  view  of  heaven  has  been  different. 

2.  Heaven's  view  of  Earth. — (''  Go  ye  into  all  the 
world  and  preach  the  Gospel  to  every  creature.") 


134  A  NEW  POINT  OF  VIEW 

Earth's  view  of  earth  is  always  local.  We  see  the 
part  around  our  feet,  but  from  the  rest  we  are 
hedged  in  by  all  manner  of  barriers.  But  the  As- 
cension of  Jesus  has  taught  us  the  heavenly  point 
of  view  for  earth,  at  which  all  local  barriers  are 
lost  sight  of. 

There  is  a  very  intimate  and  emphatic  connexion 
between  the  Ascension  and  this  wide  outlook  and 
command.  In  Greek  and  Hebrew  thought  alike, 
heaven  was  the  privileged  home  of  a  select  minority 
of  distinguished  persons,  while  the  rest  passed  to  a 
land  of  shadows,  and  the  exceptional  exaltation  of 
the  few  made  the  general  doom  only  the  more 
apparent.  But  it  was  otherwise  with  Jesus.  He 
came  forth  at  first  as  a  local  Galilean  prophet ;  at 
the  last  He  appears  in  His  disciples'  preaching  as 
the  Lord  of  the  world,  the  King  of  nations.  But  this 
expansion  is  directly  connected  with  the  narrative 
of  the  Ascension.  Lifted  up  from  the  earth,  He 
draws  all  men  unto  Himself.  He  breaks  up  and 
ends  all  possibility  of  national  or  local  religions.  He 
is  detached  from  one  land  that  He  may  claim  all 
lands  and  come  into  the  sight  of  all.  Those  who 
in  spirit  are  ascended  with  Christ,  not  only  see 
heaven  but  "overlook  the  world".  Thousands  of 
men  and  women,  brethren  in  far  lands,  came  into 
sight  that  day.  The  divisions  of  nationality,  race, 
and  class,  and  the  barriers  of  aversion,  prejudice 
and  ignorance,  all  were  lost  sight  of.     This  is  the 


A  NEW  POINT  OF  VIEW  135 

characteristic  note  of  the  Ascension.  We  must 
ascend  with  Christ  and  get  above  the  world  to  see 
it  thus. 

And  having  seen  we  must  go  forth  into  the  newly 
discovered  breadth  of  the  world.  All  that  is  needed 
for  conviction  of  the  worth  of  foreign  missions,  and 
all  other  enterprises  for  the  help  of  man  by  man,  is 
that  we  ascend  with  Christ.  Those  who  have  un- 
derstood the  meaning  of  His  Ascension,  and  seen 
the  world  from  the  heavenly  point  of  view,  can  no 
longer  stay  at  home.  Provincialism  is  a  low  thing, 
possible  only  to  the  earthly.  By  His  Ascension  He 
taught  men  the  cosmopolitanism  of  heaven  s  view 
of  earth. 

3.  The  Power  of  the  Unseen— {"  All  power  is  given 
unto  Me,"  etc.)     One  would  think  that  power,  in 
the  sense  of  influence,  must  be  measured  by  visi- 
bility.    What  we  see  most  clearly  we  feel  most 
powerfully.     Yet  even  in  the  material  world  there 
is   abundant    evidence   that   the   greatest    powers 
surrounding  us  are  the  invisible  forces  of  nature. 
And  the  access  of  spiritual  power  that  came  upon 
Christians  after  Jesus  was  no  longer  visible  to  their 
eyes,  is  one  of  the  most  remarkable  facts  in  history. 
When  we  remember  the  helplessness  of  the  com- 
pany of  disciples  huddled  together  after  the  Cruci- 
fixion, we  might  expect  a  paralysis  of  vital  energy 
in  the  Church  now  that  its  Lord  had  finally  vanished 
from  the  earth.      Left  alone,  with  their  gigantic 


136  A  NEW  POINT  OF  VIEW 

task  among  the  nations,  a  feeble  band  pitted 
against  the  possibilities  and  impossibilities  of  the 
situation,  surely  the  Church  must  feel  its  human 
weakness  to  the  point  of  despair. 

But  instead  of  this  we  find  them  returning  to 
Jerusalem  "with  great  joy,"  competent  men  who 
were  adequate  to  their  task.  Evidently  their  faith 
had  become  a  force  now,  and  that  force  was  a 
sense  of  the  power  of  Christ.  Men  who  face  great 
tasks  are  usually  keenly  alive  to  the  sense  of  Fate. 
But  for  them  henceforth  Fate  was  but  the  will  of 
Christ,  and  to  be  with  Him  in  will  was  to  be  stronger 
than  life  or  death. 

For  us  and  for  all  men  Christ's  secret  of  power 
is  not  visibility  but  exaltation.  He  is  not  seen  but 
He  is  ascended.  Lack  of  spiritual  power  is  the 
result  of  unworthy  and  inadequate  thoughts  of 
Christ.  Let  us  exalt  Him  in  our  hearts,  for  the 
more  He  is  exalted,  the  greater  is  the  might  and 
effectiveness  of  faith. 

4.  The  P7'esence  of  the  Absent.— [''IjO,  I  am  with 
you  always.")  The  parting  of  Jesus  from  His 
friends  really  united  them  to  Him.  The  earthly 
life  had  set  limits  of  all  kinds  upon  Him.  He 
was  here  and  not  there,  cut  off  from  His  friends 
by  absence  of  the  body.  Now,  He  was  free  in  the 
spiritual  land.  He  was  with  them  always,  not 
occasionally  as  before. 

And  this  meant  for  them  the  setting  free  of  love, 


A  NEW  POINT  OF  VIEW  137 

as  only  the  Ascension  could  set  it  free.  They 
needed  access  to  Him,  for  their  love  longed  for  His 
fellowship,  and  their  attempts  at  service  often 
needed  comfort.  With  His  Ascension  there  came 
upon  the  world  a  new  sense  of  the  love  it  longed 
for  made  accessible.  Love  was  the  essential 
element  in  the  whole  story  of  Christ.  Mohammed 
died,  and  the  fantastic  legend  honoured  him  with  a 
coffin  hanging  in  the  air.  That  was  high,  but  not 
ascended  far  above  the  earth.  It  was  all  that 
could  be  looked  for,  for  the  faith  of  Mohammed 
set  power  free  but  not  love.  But  Christ's  Ascen- 
sion set  love  in  the  heights  for  ever ;  and  from  the 
heights  that  love  for  ever  streams  down  upon  man- 
kind. The  presence  of  the  absent  is  precious 
chiefly  for  this,  that  neither  height  nor  depth  can 
separate  us  from  the  love  of  God  which  is  in  Christ 
Jesus  our  Lord. 


THE  DAYS  OF  THE  SPIRIT 

( Whit-Sunday) 

"  It  is  expedient  for  you  that  I  go  away." — St.  John  xvi.  7. 

The  doctrine  of  the  Holy  Spirit  is  distinctive  of 
Christianity,  and  essential  to  it.  Yet  it  is  so  deli- 
cate that  its  beauty  and  its  wonder  are  easily 
spoiled  by  rough  handling.  It  is  difficult  to  deal 
rightly  with  it,  and  it  is  dangerous  if  abused.  On 
the  one  hand,  hasty  believers,  impatient  of  its 
subtlety,  have  materialized  it,  conceiving  of  the 
personality  of  the  Holy  Ghost  in  a  crude  and  over- 
familiar  fashion.  All  mystery  has  vanished  from 
the  doctrine  for  them,  and  it  no  longer  answers  to 
those  inexpressible  hints  and  suggestions — 

those  first  affections, 
Those  shadowy  recollections.  .  .  . 
Fallings  from  us,  vanishings  ; 
Blank  misgivings  of  a  Creature 
Moving  about  in  worlds  not  realized 

— which  it  is  its  very  office  to  interpret.  On  the 
other  hand,  there  is  the  revulsion  from  all  this  on 

the  part  of  those  who,  with  an  equal  failure  to 

.(138) 


THE  DAYS  OF  THE  SPIKIT  139 

ai3preciate  the  reticent  and  secret  play  of  the 
spiritual  in  life,  have  felt  the  crude  statements  of 
the  others  to  be  obvious  unrealities.  Such  have 
left  this  doctrine  severely  alone,  and  have  stated 
Christianity  in  so  wholly  unspiritual  a  way  that 
one  cannot  but  wonder  if  they  have  so  much  as 
heard  whether  there  be  any  Holy  Spirit.  The 
result  in  either  case  is  as  unnecessary  as  it  is 
costly.  This  whole  region  is  withdrawn  indeed 
and  occult,  yet  it  is  a  region  of  obvious  facts  of 
experience. 

It  is  in  connexion  with  these  facts  that  we  must 
view  the  necessity  for  Christ's  departure.  Life,  in- 
deed, seemed  easy  while  they  had  His  bodily  pre- 
sence, but  it  could  never  be  complete.  We  have  deep 
needs,  spiritual  demands  so  fine  and  intricate,  that 
even  Christ  Himself  in  the  flesh  could  not  satisfy 
them,  but  must  rather  stand  between  men  and  their 
satisfaction.     Let  us  see  how  this  was  so. 

Jesus  appeared  in  the  midst  of  a  society  as  un- 
spiritual as  could  well  be  imagined.  The  avowed 
political  materialism  of  the  Sadducees,  and  the 
unconscious  but  even  grosser  legalistic  materialism 
of  Pharisaism,  had  set  the  fashion  of  the  nation's 
thinking,  and  kept  it  earth-bound.  Across  that 
world  Jesus  flashed  a  great  spiritual  light.  It  was 
like  a  lightning-flash  illuminating  some  mean  street, 
and  revealing  unheard-of  colours  and  forms  in  its 
deadly  regularity.    Like  the  force  of  electricity,  this 


140  THE  DAYS  OF  THE  SPIEIT 

spiritual  force  which  Jesus  revealed  had  been  there 
before,  but  undiscovered  and  unutilized.  He  made 
men  aware  of  a  new  world,  in  which  He  Himself 
was  living,  and  in  which  they  ought  to  live.  It  was 
a  world  of  spiritual  agencies  and  forces,  potent  and 
available  for  men.  The  plain  men  who  followed 
Him  uncomprehending,  felt  all  this  without  clearly- 
knowing  what  it  was  they  felt.  In  Him  they  saw 
human  life  heightened,  with  keener  possibihties  and 
more  high-strung  intensity  of  purpose.  He  was 
living  at  a  higher  pressure  and  with  a  finer  delicacy 
than  they  had  known  in  any  other  life. 

And  yet,  for  their  sakes,  He  must  leave  them. 
They  looked  on  in  wonder  at  this  new  kind  of  life, 
but  they  could  not  live  it  themselves.  The  very 
fascination  of  Jesus  kept  them  from  it.  He  was, 
in  a  way,  a  personality  too  commanding,  and  His 
way  of  life  was  too  wonderful.  While  He  was  with 
them  it  became  their  habit  not  to  face  problems, 
but  to  go  and  tell  Jesus.  He  bore  all  their  burdens 
and  undertook  their  responsibilities.  As  yet  they 
were  not  trying  to  learn  the  finesse  of  the  game  of 
life,  but  leaving  all  that  to  Him.  So  absorbing  was 
His  presence  that  they  could  not  see  past  Him.  It 
was  ever,  "Thou  knowest  that  I  love  Thee,"  or 
''  My  Lord  and  my  God,"  and  the  full  hearts  were 
at  rest  and  asked  no  more. 

Thus  even  the  holiest  influences  may  deaden 
spiritual  activity.    St.  Paul  himself  finds  it  necessary 


THE  DAYS  OF  THE  SPIEIT  141 

to  detach  himself,  and  though  he  had  known  Christ 
after  the  flesh,  henceforth  to  know  Him  so  no  more. 
So  for  those  disciples  it  was  worth  while  to  lose 
Jesus,  if  they  might  find  for  themselves  the  way 
into  that  spiritual  world  in  which  they  had  seen 
Him  moving.  For  He  did  not  come  to  be  adored 
by  men  who  could  never  reach  His  secret.  It  was 
His  will  that  those  who  had  been  given  Him 
should  be  with  Him  where  He  was. 

So  He  left  them,  and  the  days  of  the  Spirit  began. 
Once  He  was  gone,  they  were  in  a  position  to  re- 
view the  past  and  understand  its  meaning.  We  all 
know  how  death  speaks  to  us  of  our  beloved,  and 
how  strangely  impressive  is  the  power  of  that  which 
is  no  more.  So  now  they  could  see  His  life,  with 
its  wonderful  spirituality,  in  perspective  and  as  a 
whole. 

But  when  they  turned  from  the  memory  of  His 
life  to  the  need  of  taking  up  their  own,  they  found 
that  He  had  wrought  a  change  of  which  they  had 
not  been  aware.  The  still  pool  had  been  troubled 
by  the  angel.  Life  was  trembling  with  a  spiritual 
quiver  and  had  taken  on  a  more  delicate  significance. 
They  were  no  longer  occupied  with  deeds  and  spoken 
words,  but  with  thoughts,  desires,  and  imaginations. 
No  longer  did  they  wait  for  commandments ;  they 
hearkened  for  suggestions,  whispers  of  a  spiritual 
voice  that  might  be  heard  within,  telling  them  His 
mind.     To  these  they  listened  and  tried  to  follow 


142  THE  DAYS  OF  THE  SPIEIT 

them,  till  the  instinctive  voices  grew  clearer  and 
more  constant,  and  the  Spirit  was  in  command  of 
their  lives.  Nor  was  this  ministry  of  the  Spirit  an 
isolated  thing,  confined  to  the  lives  of  a  few  chosen 
individuals.  Great  tides  of  it  were  flowing,  which 
affected  masses  of  men  and  even  nations.  The  age 
of  the  Spirit  had  come,  and  the  world  felt  the  thrill 
of  a  life  which  was  a  new  thing  in  the  experience 
of  men. 

We  can  imagine  something  of  this  changed  aspect 
of  the  world.  In  early  childhood,  in  times  of 
physical  weakness,  in  rare  and  precious  hours  of 
silence,  we  all  have  been  aware  of  a  more  delicate 
but  elusive  world — a  kind  of  fairy-land  hardly  to 
be  expressed.  But  words  multiplied,  concealing 
thought ;  health  grew  robuster  and  life  more 
crowded.  The  veil  of  flesh  fell  heavily  and  the 
vision  was  lost  and  would  not  return.  There  must 
have  been  for  those  disciples  something  like  a  re- 
entering of  such  regions  of  delicate  impressions. 
No  longer  did  they  dream  of  thrones  in  a  restored 
kingdom,  no  longer  did  they  expect  the  next 
miracle  or  revel  in  great  hauls  of  fish  or  super- 
abundance of  bread.  He  had  thrust  them  forth 
into  the  difficult  and  wonderful  region  of  the 
spiritual  life.  They  had  to  take  up  its  responsi- 
bilities and  make  what  they  could  of  it.  They  had 
to  venture  out  upon  its  tides  of  spirit,  and  count 
upon  its  mysterious  powers  for  persuading  men. 


THE  DAYS  OF  THE  SPIKIT  143 

And  they  were  able  to  do  this  in  virtue  of  a  most 
strange  return  to  childhood,  a  change  of  spirit  which 
had  given  them  back  the  freshness  of  their  simplest 
years.  Children  once  again,  as  Jesus  had  said  they 
must  become,  they  had  entered  and  were  dwelling 
in  a  kingdom  that  was  not  of  earth. 

If  this  be  Christianity  as  it  actually  was  in  the 
beginning,  that  fact  entirely  precludes  all  mere 
materialism  either  of  faith  or  of  unbelief.  There 
is  more  in  Christianity  than  eye  hath  seen  or  ear 
heard ;  more  than  theologians  have  defined  or 
rationalists  denied.  There  is  in  human  nature  a 
craving  for  contact  with  the  spirit  world  deep  as 
life  itself.  The  Greek  oracles,  the  Alexandrian 
gnosticism,  and  the  many  varieties  of  spiritualistic 
endeavour  after  the  occult  in  modern  times,  all 
bear  witness  to  that  fact.  It  is  easy  to  dismiss 
this  or  that  development  with  the  word  "grot- 
esque ".  But  the  Christian  answer  to  these  cravings 
is  not  ridicule  nor  denial.  It  is  fulfilment,  for  the 
days  of  the  Christian  faith  are  indeed  the  Days  of 
the  Spirit.  And  this  is  the  record  of  a  historic 
change  for  which  Christ  is  responsible.  He  went 
away  and  the  Spirit  came. 


THE  SPmiTUAL  DOCTRINE  OF  GOD 

( Trinity-Sunday) 

"  For  there  are  three  that  bear  record  in  heaven,  the  Father, 
the  Word,  and  the  Holy  Ghost :  and  these  three  are  one." 
— 1  John  v.  7. 

One  of  the  most  significant  and  valuable  changes 
in  the  habits  of  theological  thinking  is  the  change 
from  the  deductive  and  metaphysical  to  the  induc- 
tive and  psychological  method.  In  simpler  language, 
it  was  formerly  the  rule  to  establish  a  doctrine 
apart  from  our  human  experience,  and  then  to  adapt 
life  and  thought  to  the  doctrine  ;  it  is  now  the  rule 
to  take  our  human  experience  with  us  when  we 
are  trying  to  understand  or  state  all  doctrines. 

In  no  case  is  this  latter  method  more  advantage- 
ous, and  indeed  necessary,  than  in  regard  to  the 
doctrine  of  the  Holy  Trinity.  If  we  try  to  build  it 
up  out  of  proof-texts  from  Scripture,  and  abstract 
reasoning  and  speculation,  we  shall  succeed  only  in 
bewildering  ourselves.  The  abstract  doctrine  of  the 
Trinity  is  scholastic,  mechanical,  and  fictitious. 
The  popularized  form  of  such  a  conception  will  be 

(144) 


THE  SPIKITUAL  DOCTKINE  OF  GOD      145 

either  some  form  of  tritheism,  or  it  will  be  a  mere 
paradox  with  no  meaning  at  all. 

But  it  was  not  in  this  abstract  fashion  that  the 
doctrine  originally  came.  It  did  not  arise  from  our 
text,  for  that  text  was  absent  from  the  original 
documents  and  did  not  appear  till  the  fifth  cen- 
tury. The  doctrine,  as  Clarke  says,  ''  Sprang  up  in 
experience,  not  in  speculation".  It  was  because 
men  found  the  one  God  manifesting  Himself  to 
them  in  three  ways  that  they  tried  to  conceive  and 
state  their  thoughts  of  Him  accordingly.  The  ab- 
stract formulations  and  controversies  were  drawn 
partly  from  Scripture ;  partly  from  the  need  of 
combating  heresies  which  stated  the  being  of 
God  in  terms  which  were  not  true  to  the 
Christian  experience  ;  and  partly  from  the  Greek 
spirit  which  sought  to  rationalize  and  harmonize 
all  human  knowledge.  But  none  of  these  was  the 
source  of  the  doctrine,  which  arose  out  of  the  deep- 
est hours  of  communion  between  the  souls  of  be- 
lievers and  God. 

On  the  one  hand,  by  the  very  constitution  of  our 

minds  we  perceive  the  demand  for  unity  in  God. 

Apart   from   this   there   can   be   no   universe,   no 

rational  life  at  all.     And  yet  our  social  instincts, 

nay,  the  very  constitution  of  human  nature,  reveal 

variety  in  unity.      Thus,   on   the   one   hand,   our 

thought  of  God  could  never  rest  in  polytheism  ;  on 

the  other  hand  pure  unitarianism  has  not  satisfied  the 

10 


146      THE  SPIRITUAL  DOCTRINE  OF  GOD 

demand  of  religious  experience.  The  former  ends 
in  atheism,  for  it  has  never  remained  credible  under 
the  test  of  thought ;  the  latter  tends  to  a  coldness 
of  religious  spirit  which  has  never  met  the  need  of 
the  generality  of  men,  for  it  is  incapable  of  ade- 
quately revealing  God's  love. 

We  do  not  indeed  profess  to  reconcile  the  unity 
and  the  variety  with  anything  like  a  clear  or  com- 
plete understanding.  The  mystery  remains  in  which 
the  Divine  must  ever  dwell.  Yet  trinitarian  doc- 
trine is  helpful,  for  it  saves  us  from  being  ''lost 
in  the  vague  recesses  of  the  infinite,"  or  from  being 
driven  to  assert  that  "  God  is  too  awful  to  be  wor- 
shipped ".  It  keeps  our  manifold  nature  and  ex- 
perience at  every  point  in  touch  with  God. 

When,  then,  we  ask  not  what  God  is  in  Himself, 
but  what  He  is  to  us,  the  answer  of  experience  is, 
that  we  know  Him  as  Father,  as  Son,  and  as  Holy 
Spirit.  It  is  interesting  to  remember  that  this  is 
the  order  in  which  the  revelation  has  been  histori- 
cally made.  The  earliest  phase  of  it  was  that  of 
the  patriarchial  times.  Then,^in  the  nomad  society, 
fatherhood  was  the  dominant  idea.  It  governed 
law,  custom,  and  all  the  affairs  and  relations  of 
life.  So  men,  looking  up  towards  the  Divine 
through  their  own  experience,  naturally  found  Him 
as  the  Father — the  highest  expression  of  their  rul- 
ing and  guiding  conception.  Later,  when  national 
history  grew  tragic  with  sin  and  punishment,  de- 


THE  SPIEITUAL  DOCTRINE  OF  GOD      147 

feat  and  exile  shattering  the  nation's  complacent 
life,  and  conscience  embittering  the  misery  of  their 
hearts,  there  came  a  second  phase.  The  suffering 
Servant,  the  stricken  and  afflicted  One  bearing  on 
His  own  heart  the  sins  of  many,  and  by  His  stripes 
healing  them,  revealed  the  Son.  When  Jesus  had 
been  crucified.  His  disciples  saw  in  Calvary  the  com- 
plete revelation  of  all  that  towards  which  the 
prophets  had  been  groping.  Here  was  another  view 
of  God,  and  the  life  of  the  world  demanded  it  and 
was  satisfied  by  it.  Yet  these  were  not  all.  From 
the  first  there  had  been  a  sense  of  the  Divine  inspir- 
ing and  guiding  the  ordinary  fife  of  man,  quickening 
his  interests  and  w^orking  through  him  in  his  en- 
thusiasms. In  the  days  of  the  Apostles  this  in- 
spiring and  quickening  became  so  distinct  and  so 
powerful  a  phenomenon,  that  they  could  explain  it 
no  otherwise  than  by  a  third  view  of  God  as  Holy 
Spirit.  Thus  in  historic  order,  God  revealed  Him- 
self to  man  threefold. 

In  the  experience  of  the  individual  the  same 
thing  is  true,  and  though  no  religious  experience  is 
coerced  into  following  any  unbroken  order  of 
sequence,  yet  in  general  the  order  is  the  same. 
The  little  child,  whose  environment  is  the  Christian 
home,  naturally  first  views  the  world  under  the 
dominating  idea  of  fatherhood.  His  parents  are  to 
him  inevitably  the  first  revelation  of  the  Divine, 
and  he  knows  the  Father.     Later,  when  life  has 


148      THE  SPIKITUAL  DOCTRINE  OF  GOD 

led  him  to  its  battle-fields  of  joy  and  sorrow,  of  sin 
and  righteousness,  he  needs  more  in  God  than  he 
needed  in  the  innocence  of  childhood.  Then  it  is 
that  his  whole  nature  craves  for  and  responds  to 
the  revelation  of  God  which  is  given  in  Jesus 
Christ.  Farther  on  in  the  journey,  when  the  pas- 
sionate days  of  youth  are  over,  the  meaning  of 
life's  work  and  thought  discloses  itself.  The  con- 
tinued labour  and  interest  of  the  years  require  an 
interpretation  which  will  keep  the  man  strong  and 
keen.  So  he  finds  God  revealed  as  the  Holy 
Spirit. 

Heine,  in  a  memorable  passage,  has  elaborated 
this  conception,  and  with  that  we  may  leave  the 
subject.  We  must  leave  it  in  mystery ;  but 
through  the  mystery  the  great  thought  of  the 
Holy  Trinity  shines,  sufficient  for  the  needs  of  life, 
though  still  eluding  the  eff'orts  of  the  strongest 
intellect.  We  cannot  master  these  conceptions  and 
force  them  into  a  unity  of  thought.  We  shall  be 
wise  if  we  let  them  master  us,  and  guide  us  into 
a  life  of  worship  and  obedience. 

''  Ah,  my  child,"  says  Heine,  "  while  I  was  yet  a 
little  boy,  while  I  yet  sat  upon  my  mother's  knee, 
I  believed  in  God  the  Father,  who  rules  up  there 
in  heaven,  good  and  great ;  who  created  the  beauti- 
ful earth,  and  the  beautiful  men  and  women  there- 
on ;  who  ordained  for  sun,  moon,  and  stars  their 
courses. 


THE  SPIEITUAL  DOCTEINE  OF  GOD     149 

"  When  I  got  bigger,  my  child,  I  comprehended 
yet  a  great  deal  more  than  this,  and  comprehended, 
and  grew  intelligent ;  and  I  believe  on  the  Son  also, 
on  the  beloved  Son,  who  loved  us  and  revealed  love 
to  us ;  and  for  His  reward,  as  always  happens,  was 
crucified  by  the  people. 

"  Now,  when  I  am  grown  up,  have  read  much,  have 
travelled  much,  my  heart  swells  within  me,  and  with 
my  whole  heart  I  believe  on  the  Holy  Ghost.  The 
greatest  miracles  were  of  His  working,  and  still 
greater  miracles  doth  He  even  now  work  ;  He  burst 
in  sunder  the  oppressor's  stronghold,  and  He  burst  in 
sunder  the  bondsman's  yoke.  He  heals  old  death- 
wounds,  and  renews  the  old  right ;  all  mankind  are 
one  race  of  noble  equals  before  Him.  He  chases 
away  the  evening  clouds  and  the  dark  cobwebs  of 
the  brain,  which  have  spoilt  love  and  joy  for  us, 
which  day  and  night  have  lowered  on  us." 


THE  SPIRIT  AND  THE  INTELLECT 

"He  will  guide  you  into  all  truth." — St.  John  xvi.  13. 

We  have  yet  to  consider  the  significance  for  the 
intellect  of  the  change  from  the  days  of  Christ's 
flesh  to  the  days  of  the  Spirit.  We  have  already 
seen  how  the  days  of  the  Spirit  led  men  to  interpret 
their  spiritual  experience  in  terms  of  the  great 
doctrine  of  the  Trinity.  But  that  is  only  one  in- 
stance of  the  general  guidance  into  truth  which  is 
here  promised. 

This  promise  demands  close  reflection,  for  the 
superficial  understanding  of  it  is  dangerous.  There 
is  in  some  quarters  a  tendency  towards  the  idea 
that  this  is  some  miraculous  method  of  gaining 
knowledge  apart  from  the  ordinary  ways  in  which 
knowledge  is  acquired — an  idea  which  has  led  to 
disastrous  results  both  of  intellectual  indolence  and 
spiritual  arrogance.  Under  its  supposed  sanction, 
some  whose  duty  it  was  to  be  students  following  the 
ordinary  painstaking  methods  of  study  and  research, 
have  imagined  themselves  capable  of  pronouncing 
opinions  upon  matters  which  they  had  not  studied, 

mistaking  the  crude  and  mistaken  ideas  of  their 

(160) 


THE  SPIKIT  AND  THE  INTELLECT       151 

undisciplined  minds  for  revelations.    Even  practical 
business  men  have  neglected  the  ordinary  rules  and 
methods  of  business,  to  follow  an  independent  guid- 
ance which  has  led  to  disastrous  consequences.  Such 
attempts  to  leap  for  the  top  of  the  ladder  are  really 
the  result  not  of  spiritual  illumination  but  of  in- 
tellectual indolence.     There  are   no  short  cuts  to 
knowledge,  and  this  is  as  true  of  religious  know- 
ledge as  it  is  of  scientific,  or  any  other  department 
of  the  search  for  truth.    Moreover,  those  who  in  this 
way  seek  for  knowledge  by  indolent  magic  instead  ot 
by  honest  work,  cut  off  from  the  humbling  discipline 
of  the  search,  are  apt  to  grow  vain  of  their  supposed 
wisdom,  and  arrogantly  assume  a  spiritual  superi- 
ority to  others  who  are  content  to  follow  the  more 
patient  and  honest  way.     It  is  as  dishonest  to  seek 
interest  upon  fictitious  capital  in  spiritual  things 
as  it  is  in  the  stock  exchange,  and  such  spiritual 
arrogance  is  akin  to  the  pride  of  the  nouveau  riche 
speculator. 

It  is  not  new  facts  of  knowledge,  gained  without 
expenditure  of  study,  that  are  here  promised,  but 
something  far  nobler  and  more  valuable.  The  days 
of  the  Spirit  are  days  in  which  all  a  man's  powers 
of  thought  and  imagination  are  quickened  from 
within.  So  real  is  this  vital  agency  which  Christ 
promised,  that  its  effects  may  be  seen  in  even 
secular  regions.  The  Old  Testament  is  full  of  the 
record  of  men  upon  whom  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord 


152       THE  SPIKIT  AND  THE  INTELLECT 

came  mightily,  producing  the  best  results  in  music, 
in  building,  in  decoration,  and  along  the  whole 
line  of  secular  activities.  The  range  of  the  Spirit's 
operation  is  as  wide  as  the  interests  and  concerns  of 
human  life.  The  student  will  be  a  better  student, 
the  business  man  more  capable,  if  they  live  in  the 
Spirit.  Even  in  those  secular  ways,  no  one  is  so 
trying  as  the  mere  matter-of-fact  person,  and  no 
one  reaches  truth  less  than  he.  The  man  to  whom 
a  flower  is  merely  a  botanical  specimen,  to  be  dis- 
sected and  classified,  will  never  be  a  botanist  of  the 
highest  order,  for  he  has  not  the  Spirit.  The  artist 
whose  painting  is  but  the  following  out  of  mechani- 
cal rules  of  drawing  and  of  colour,  will  ever  be  but 
second  rate  ;  while  those  who  gain  the  supreme 
places  in  art  are  ever  the  first  to  confess  that  their 
pictures  leapt  to  expression  in  some  moment  of  in- 
spiration which  they  themselves  did  not  understand. 
Such  moments  are  revelations  of  the  Holy  Spirit, 
and  that  is  why  high  art  calls  forth  our  reverence. 

But  those  heightened  powers  of  the  spiritual  life 
show  themselves  most  of  all  in  regard  to  Jesus 
Christ.  It  needs  spiritual  insight  to  understand 
Him,  and  it  was  spiritual  insight  alone  which  dis- 
tinguished the  disciples  from  the  Pharisees.  To 
some  men  still  His  words  sound  commonplace,  and 
His  story  is  unimpressive.  Others  find  wayside 
sayings  of  His  take  on  new  meaning  as  life  leads 
them  forward  into  new  situations.     As  they  read 


THE  SPIBIT  AND  THE  INTELLECT      163 

His  words,  floods  of  light  stream  upon  the  problems 
of  life  and  upon  the  being  and  character  of  God. 
He  Himself  grows  more  wonderful  to  them,  and 
His  power  and  love  master  their  passions  and  com- 
mand their  souls.  They  know  Him  not  after  the 
flesh  but  after  the  Spirit. 

There  is  yet  a  further  promise — "  He  will  show 
you  things  to  come  ".  This  does  not  mean  the  very 
poor  and  doubtful  gift  of  foretelling,  which  would 
again  reduce  Christianity  to  magic  and  detach  it 
from  normal  human  experience.  It  is  but  an 
expansion  of  the  former  promise,  which  is  not 
merely  that  we  shall  know,  but  that  we  shall  be 
guided  into  truth.  For  truth  is  a  living  thing,  not 
fixed  and  stationary  but  growing.  Truth  has  a 
future  as  well  as  a  present,  and  it  develops  from 
age  to  age.  The  growth  of  the  Christian  creed  is 
proof  of  this.  It  did  not  come  to  the  world  full- 
formed,  like  the  goddess  from  the  waves  of  Cyprus. 
It  expanded  from  form  to  form,  each  new  dog- 
matic advance  revealing  new  stretches  of  thought, 
and  leading  thinkers  to  understand  the  former 
doctrines  more  fully  and  to  re-state  them  more 
accurately.  The  oldest  truth  can  only  be  rightly 
seen  in  the  light  of  the  newest  revelation.  As 
time  leads  men  into  new  fields  of  inquiry,  and 
science  discovers  new  methods  of  research,  these 
new  methods,  applied  to  the  old  doctrines,  bring 
them  out   into  richer  and   more  wonderful  light. 


154       THE  SPIEIT  AND  THE  INTELLECT 

And  as  the  general  progress  of  civilization  lays 
emphasis  upon  new  human  conditions  and  needs, 
a  like  change  of  emphasis  appears  in  our  thoughts 
of  God  and  of  His  ways  with  men.  Thus  it  need 
not  surprise  us  that  the  point  of  view  in  theology 
has  changed  and  is  changing.  It  is  but  the  fulfil- 
ment of  the  promise  of  Christ  that  the  Spirit,  in 
guiding  men  into  all  truth,  would  show  them  things 
to  come. 

Further,  there  is  a  counterpart  in  the  experience 
of  each  individual  to  the  general  development  of 
truth  in  the  history  of  thought.  Within  the  compass 
of  each  separate  life,  the  truth  ought  to  expand. 
At  first  we  see  it  as  it  bears  on  our  experience 
and  knowledge  up  to  that  time.  But  as  experience 
grows  wider,  we  see  it  in  new  bearings  and  rela- 
tions, and  gradually  realize  what  it  must  involve 
when  more  completely  understood  and  more  widely 
applied.  This,  however,  is  true  only  of  the  spiritual 
man.  The  world  of  the  Spirit  is  a  world  not  of  inert 
convictions  but  of  intense  vitality  and  movement, 
where  every  belief  is  a  Kving  thing,  expanding  and 
growing  richer  continually  under  the  guidance  of 
the  Spirit. 


THE  SPIRIT  AND  THE  CONSCIENCE 

"  He  will  convict  the  world  of  sin,  and  of  righteougness,  and  of 
judgment." — St.  John  xvii.  8-11. 

In  these  words  we  have  a  more  detailed  description 
of  the  days  of  the  Spirit— a  closer  view  of  what 
that  remarkable  change  from  material  to  spiritual 
life  involves  for  the  conscience,  as  we  have  already 
seen  its  value  for  the  intellect. 

Its  significance  for  the  conscience  is  implied  in  the 
promise  that  the  Spirit  will  ''convict"  the  world. 
The  word  does  not  denote  the  convincing  of  the 
intellect,  but  rather  the  striking  home  upon  the 
moral  sense,  the  strengthening  and  refining  of  all 
the  moral  faculties  and  powers.  In  its  light  the 
three  great  ethical  facts  of  sin,  righteousness,  and 
judgment,  take  on  a  new  meaning. 

1.  >S'm— There  is  nothing  more  liable  to  be  inade- 
quately conceived  than  sin.  We  think  of  it  in  general 
as  a  way  of  behaviour  which  is  contrary  to  public 
rights  or  to  private  interests  or  tastes,  and  the  out- 
wardness of  our  view  leads  to  shallowness.  Yet 
there  are  times  when  no  known  wrong  has  been 
done,  and  when  conscience  nevertheless  "  trembles 

(155) 


156      THE  SPIEIT  AND  THE  CONSCIENCE 

like  a  guilty  thing  surprised  ".  Such  obstinate  mis- 
givings cannot  be  suppressed  without  doing  violence 
to  our  moral  nature,  nor  can  they  be  made  to  vanish 
by  any  scientific  attempts  to  explain  them  away. 
They  prepare  us  for  the  finer  sensibility  of  con- 
science, the  more  exacting  tests  and  the  higher 
standards  of  the  days  of  the  Spirit,  and  they  enable 
us  to  understand  these  strange  words  '^  sin,  because 
they  believe  not  on  me  ". 

It  is  a  common  fallacy  to  consider  the  regions  of 
belief  and  morals  separate,  in  "  water-tight  compart- 
ments ".  It  is,  indeed,  important  to  guard  the  neut- 
rality of  intellect  against  the  unjust  suspicions  and 
accusations  which  have  sometimes  been  entertained. 
It  must  be  emphatically  maintained  that  in  many 
cases  a  man's  belief  or  unbelief  cannot  be  traced  to 
his  moral  soundness  or  default.  Yet  that  is  but  half 
the  truth.  Behind  our  present  condition  of  belief  or 
unbelief  lies  the  history  of  an  infinite  number  of 
small  choices  of  right  or  wrong.  Those  habitual 
and  insignificant-looking  choices  induce  the  moods 
which  overshadow  the  life,  and  fix  the  general  atti- 
tude of  the  soul.  When  a  man's  mind  is  habitually 
turned  away  from  Christ,  unimpressed  by  Him  or 
even  actively  repelled,  that  fact  may  indeed  be  dis- 
cussed as  a  purely  intellectual  phenomenon.  But  it 
is  more  than  that.  The  Spirit  discovers  in  it  a  whole 
world  of  sin,  manifest  in  previous  habits  of  choice 
with  which  it  has  apparently  no  connexion. 


THE  SPIEIT  AND  THE  CONSCIENCE      157 

2.  Righteousness— onv  thought  of  which  is  also  in- 
adequate, for  want  of  vital  interest.  We  may  not 
indeed  be  willing  to  confess  to  the  cynical  view  that 
righteousness  is  actually  a  cross;  but  we  must 
confess  that  we  have  to  try  hard  to  be  good,  and 
that  we  have  sometimes  found  it  a  dull  business, 
which  we  have  had  to  strengthen  by  reminding  our- 
selves that  after  all  it  pays. 

The  spiritual  view  of  righteousness  is  that  it 
''  goes  to  the  Father  ".  Christ  had  been  for  the 
disciples  the  complete  embodiment  of  righteousness, 
and  this  is  His  greatest  saying  about  it.  He  tells 
them  that  men  will  receive  a  new  conviction  of  it 
altogether  when  He  goes  to  the  Father.  It  was  by 
thus  bringing  righteousness  into  connexion  with  the 
Father  that  he  transformed  it.  One  expects  to 
see  the  angels  ascending  and  descending  between 
heaven  and  earth  upon  the  Son  of  man.  And  here 
is  this  great  angel  of  righteousness,  seen  now  in  its 
heavenly  aspect. 

It  is  when  we  realize  that  righteousness  goes  to 
the  Father  that  we  find  it  has  become  convincing. 
In  ordinary  views  of  it,  we  see  it  going  to  the  law, 
to  a  man's  good  name,  to  success  in  life ;  but  when 
that  is  all,  we  can  still  hold  it  in  suspense.  But 
now  it  has  become  indisputable,  because  it  consists 
no  longer  in  obeying  a  law  but  in  doing  the  will  of 
one  who  loves  us.  There  is  no  disputing  that  claim. 
It   enlists  not  merely  the  delight  of   all  healthy 


158      THE  SPIKIT  AND  THE  CONSCIENCE 

minds  in  cleanness,  but  the  surrender  of  the  will  to 
love.  And  because  it  is  God's  will  to  which  we 
surrender,  there  is  revealed  also  the  godlikeness  of 
goodness.  The  tenderness  of  God's  compassion, 
the  strength  and  gentleness  of  the  Father's  heart, 
all  help  us  to  realize  the  fascination  of  righteous- 
ness. It  is  seen  to  be  real,  dependent  on  no  ques- 
tions of  ethical  casuistry,  but  real  as  the  love  which 
requires  it.  It  is  human,  for  the  character  of  God 
is  manifestly  the  heritage  of  His  sons.  It  is  attain- 
able, and  we,  too,  must  arise  and  go  to  the  Father, 
whither  our  righteousness  has  already  gone.  In 
this  high  light  we  see  as  it  were  our  aspirations 
and  ideals  finding  their  way  to  the  Father,  and  our- 
selves following  them  in  growing  obedience.  All 
this  changed  aspect  of  the  moral  world  comes  to 
us  when  our  righteousness  no  longer  stays  on  earth 
but  goes  to  the  Father. 

3.  Judgment — and  the  reference  is  not  so  much 
to  a  future  Judgment  Day  as  to  our  moral  judg- 
ments in  the  present  life.  Before  the  days  of  the 
Spirit,  these  judgments  are  inaccurate  because  they 
are  confused  by  the  cross-lights  of  the  world.  Con- 
science gives  one  set  of  judgments,  but  the  estimates 
of  the  world  are  different,  and  we  are  tempted  to 
accept  these  as  the  more  tolerant  and  comfortable. 
Of  course  there  are  certain  glaring  matters  which 
are  so  obvious  that  all  are  perforce  agreed  about 
them.     But  there  are  innumerable  questions  whose 


THE  SPIRIT  AND  THE  CONSCIENCE      159 

answer  is  by  no  means  clear,  where  right  or  wrong 
must  be  settled  by  finer  instincts.  Apart  from 
the  Spirit,  it  must  be  confessed  that  while  both  con- 
science and  the  world  are  plausible,  yet  on  the  whole 
the  world's  less  stringent  fashion  of  judging  may 
often  seem  to  be  the  more  reasonable  of  the  two. 

But  in  the  days  of  the  Spirit,  the  prince  of  this 
world  is  judged.  It  is  not  merely  that  in  this  or 
that  particular  we  are  led  to  choose  the  verdict  of 
conscience  against  the  world.  But  a  comprehensive 
judgment  is  passed  against  the  worth  of  the  world's 
judgment.  It  has  seemed  authoritative,  and  it  has 
required  courage  to  question  it.  Many  a  time  it 
has  been  imperious  enough  to  silence  the  quieter 
voice  of  conscience.  But  now  those  who  have 
caught  sight  of  the  spiritual  world  are  set  free  from 
their  bondage  to  this  world's  opinion.  All  things 
have  fallen  into  proportion,  and  they  see  the  relative 
values  of  the  judgments.  The  apparent  lordliness 
of  this  world  is  seen  to  be  a  mere  delusion  and  a 
sham.  No  good  can  come  of  trusting  the  verdict 
of  this  world  which  passeth  away  against  the  verdict 
of  the  Spirit  which  abideth  for  ever.  In  Christian's 
invective  against  Apollyon,  before  the  fight  in  the 
valley,  we  have  a  classical  example  of  the  judgment 
of  the  prince  of  this  world.  And  we  feel  how  the 
true  royalty  is  transferred  from  the  swaggering 
spirit  of  this  world  to  the  quiet  might  of  those 
assurances  which  are  the  work  of  the  Spirit. 


THE  UNKNOWN  CHRIST 

(St.  John  the  Baptist) 

"There  standeth  one  among  you  whom  ye  know  not." — 
St.  John  i.  26. 

Feom  every  point  of  view  this  scene  is  peculiarly 
interesting  and  graphic.  The  valley  of  Jordan, 
with  its  successive  shelf-like  ledges  of  plateau  that 
mark  the  various  levels  of  the  flood,  and  its  pride 
of  bushy  trees  and  lush  water-side  grass  that  crawls 
winding  like  a  green  snake  along  the  colourless 
barrenness  of  the  wide  valley,  is  itself  a  unique 
piece  of  natural  scenery.  The  crowds  that  then 
filled  it,  drawn  from  every  rank  and  from  every 
district  of  Palestine,  lent  their  added  human  in- 
terest. Not  often,  even  in  that  land  of  crowded 
open-air  spectacles,  could  such  a  cosmopolitan  and 
representative  multitude  be  seen.  The  man  at  the 
river-side  was  still  more  unique — a  man  who  from 
childhood  had  lived  apart,  taking  his  views  of  men 
and  things  direct,  and  not  through  any  of  the 
ordinary  channels  of  knowledge.  His  mind  was 
like  his  shaggy  garment  and   his   food — unusual, 

simple,  and  primitive.    His  thoughts  passed  through 

(160) 


THE  UNKNOWN  CHKIST  161 

no  medium  of  public  opinion  that  would  tone  them 
down  to  words  conventionally  correct.  They  went 
forth  from  him  as  they  came  to  him,  immediate 
and  unsoftened  by  any  thought  of  politeness  or 
propriety.  To  complete  the  strangeness  of  the 
scene,  we  have  him  confronted  by  those  who  repre- 
sented the  extreme  opposite  of  such  simplicity, 
priests  and  Levites  sent  by  the  Jews  from  Jerusalem. 
These  were  men  who  had  entirely  lost  their  identity, 
merging  themselves  in  the  conventions  of  a  ludi- 
crously overdone  religious  system.  Slaves  of  ritual 
and  formulae,  their  minds  had  neither  power  of 
vision  nor  of  judgment.  Outside  the  routine  of 
words,  they  were  lost  at  once.  It  was  the  confront- 
ing of  a  child  of  nature  with  men  of  the  schools. 

They  were  out  after  names,  and  they  had  come 
to  the  very  home  of  realities.  Jerusalem  was  un- 
easy because  it  could  not  get  a  name  for  John.  All 
nameless  things,  all  that  was  original,  unconven- 
tional, unusual,  made  Jerusalem  uneasy.  The 
strain  of  political  crisis  set  men's  nerves  on  edge, 
and  brought  to  an  acute  point  those  instincts  of  the 
pedagogue  which  feared  and  hated  the  undefined. 
So  they  came  with  their  question,  '-'  Who  art  thou  ? 
that  we  may  give  an  answer  to  them  that  sent  us. 
Art  thou  the  Christ,  or  Elias,  or  that  prophet,  and 
if  thou  art  none  of  these,  then  who  ?  "  It  was 
such  questioning  that  drew  from  Jesus  the  ironical 

sayings  as  k)   what  they  went   out  for  to  see — 

11 


162  THE  UNKNOWN  CHKIST 

Was  it  a  reed  shaken  with  the  wind,  or  a  man 
clothed  in  soft  clothing  ?  As  a  matter  of  fact,  the 
one  list  of  categories  was  as  accurate  as  the  other 
for  John  the  Baptist.  He  fitted  no  niche  in  their 
gallery,  no  shelf  in  their  museum.  All  that  they 
wanted  from  him  was  an  answer,  that  they  might 
put  the  right  name  on  him  and  dismiss  him  from 
their  minds. 

But  that  was  not  at  all  what  John  wanted.  It 
mattered  nothing  to  him  what  men  called  him,  but 
it  mattered  everything  what  they  did  with  his 
message.  So  he  answers,  "  I  am  a  voice  crying,"  ''  I 
baptize  with  water".  It  was  as  if  he  had  said, 
"  This  is  the  wilderness,  and  I  refuse  to  come  back 
from  it  to  the  schools.  This  is  the  place  of  realities, 
not  of  fictions.  I  am  just  what  you  hear  and  see. 
Let  your  minds  play  directly  upon  these  obvious 
facts.  Take  me  for  what  I  am,  and  do  justice  to 
the  facts  as  you  find  them." 

It  would  be  impossible  to  exaggerate  the  import- 
ance of  that  reply,  with  its  demand  to  let  his  "  work 
speak  for  itself  without  the  prejudice  of  a  name". 
There  are  always  such  men  of  theory  who  look 
upon  all  departments  of  the  world  as  a  museum  for 
them  to  catalogue.  Their  whole  interest  in  any 
phenomenon  is  to  get  it  properly  designated,  labelled, 
and  pigeon-holed.  One  of  Eobert  Browning's  char- 
acteristic phrases  is  "  knows  and  names,"  but  these 
men  name  without  really  knowing,  and  the  name 


THE  UNKNOWN  CHEIST  163 

becomes  the  enemy  of  knowledge.  Classification 
is  a  valuable  help  to  knowledge,  but  it  is  often  used 
as  a  substitute  for  knowledge.  Then  it  becomes  a 
mere  thought-saving  apparatus,  a  device  for  stifling 
thought.  For  life  is  greater  than  many  pigeon- 
holes, and  a  soul  than  definitions.  The  first  secret 
of  true  knowledge  is  to  take  men  and  things  as 
they  are,  without  a  theory,  and  to  let  them  reveal 
themselves.  There  is  less  need  either  for  names 
or  theories  than  for  an  open  and  loving  eye  in  the 
search  for  truth.  Everything,  even  the  meanest 
and  most  common,  has  hidden  depths  of  signi- 
ficance, which  are  best  explored  while  it  remains 
uncatalogued. 

Yet  John  is  not  content  with  this  keen-edged 
truth.  His  thoughts  and  imagination  were  full  of 
one  face  he  had  seen  in  that  sea  of  faces,  and  he 
goes  on  to  say,  ''There  standeth  one  among  you 
whom  ye  know  not — one  who  will  baffle  your 
classifying  even  more  completely  than  I — one  whom 
it  will  do  you  little  good  to  catalogue,  but  to  know 
whom  is  eternal  life."  And  as  they  looked  round 
in  curiosity  it  may  well  be  that  the  eyes  of  some  of 
them  fell  upon  the  Carpenter  of  Nazareth,  classed 
Him  at  once  as  a  village  tradesman,  and  continued 
their  search. 

The  story  of  Jesus  Christ  is  a  familiar  story,  how 
He  was  born,  lived,  taught,  died,  was  buried,  and 
rose  from  the  dead.     Some  believe  it,  and  some 


164  THE  UNKNOWN  CHKIST 

sigh,  saying  that  it  is  a  great  mystery.  Doubts 
invade  their  faith.  Questions  of  pre-existence, 
virgin-birth,  miracles,  or  resurrection  hinder  them 
from  pronouncing  upon  it,  though  they  know  it  all 
so  well.  But  both  believers  and  unbelievers  alike 
often  mistake  knowing  for  defining,  and  so  repeat 
the  old  error  of  the  priests  and  Levites.  The  mere 
achievement  of  forming  a  theory  and  finding  a  name 
for  Him  will  bring  a  man  no  nearer  heaven  than 
the  arranging  of  specimens  in  a  case.  Christ 
is  neither  imprisoned  in  history  nor  in  heaven, 
neither  in  the  Bible  nor  in  the  Church.  Faith 
in  Christ  is  not  the  passing  of  an  examination 
in  theological  terms  and  doctrines  :  it  is  a  magni- 
ficent realization  of  the  eternal  love  as  it  is  in  Him 
who  interprets  life  and  reveals  the  Father.  Christ 
is  one  that  standeth  among  you — the  Eternal  Con- 
temporary who  has  never  left  mankind.  The  ques- 
tions about  Him  can  wait  and  find  answer  to- 
morrow ;  but  our  souls  may  find  themselves  and 
their  God  through  Him  to-day. 

Many  speak  of  Him,  and  put  this  name  or  that 
upon  Him,  who  do  not  know  Him  at  all.  But  here 
and  there  a  soul  discovers  Him  and  is  amazed.  He 
is  so  much  more  human  than  all  that  has  been  said 
about  Him — so  much  more  human  and  so  much 
more  divine.  That  tremendous  personality  is  at 
work  in  our  own  lives  and  in  the  lives  of  all  about 
us — at  work,  and  working  for  the  same  ends  as  of 


THE  UNKNOWN  CHEIST  165 

old.  The  marriage-feast  of  Cana  is  not  ended.  In 
a  thousand  homes  He  is  turning  the  water  of  life 
and  love  and  work  into  wine  to-day.  The  tempta- 
tions on  the  mountain  are  still  in  progress,  and  the 
Son  of  Man,  in  a  thousand  struggling  souls,  is 
winning  His  victory  over  self-indulgence  and  pride 
and  the  glory  of  the  world  which  the  devil  offers. 
The  woman  taken  in  adultery  is  still  hearing  the 
incredible  words  :  "  Neither  do  I  condemn  thee ; 
go  and  sin  no  more  ".  The  Pharisee  in  the  Temple 
is  still  being  rejected  in  favour  of  the  sin-smitten 
publican.  The  cross  is  still  on  Calvary,  and  men 
are  learning  there  the  love  and  sacrifice  through 
which  God  wins  the  victory  over  the  sin  of  the 
world. 

These  things  are  happening.  They  are  the  only 
true  interpretation  of  human  life  as  we  find  it  within 
ourselves  and  in  our  fellow-men.  Every  stroke  of 
conscience,  every  desire  of  better  life,  every  gener- 
ous impulse,  every  victory  over  temptation,  every 
sudden  glory  when  the  spirit  is  set  free  and  leaps 
to  eternal  love,  every  touch  of  compassion,  when 
we  feel  the  sin  and  sorrow  of  our  fellow-man  upon 
our  own  heart,  and  pitying  him  would  fain  save  him 
— there  is  Christ  Jesus,  manifest  to  the  eyes  of 
those  that  will  see.  To  understand  these  things  we 
have  to  turn  to  Him.  To  do  them  justice  we  have 
to  interpret  them  in  terms  of  His  life  and  words. 

It  is  said  that  in  the   French   Kevolution   the 


166  THE  UNKNOWN  CHEIST 

maddened  crowd  was  rushing  through  the  corridors 
of  the  Tuileries,  bent  on  the  murder  of  the  Queen. 
A  young  girl  was  in  the  front  of  that  wild  rush,  and 
when  they  reached  the  locked  door  of  the  royal 
apartment  she  was  driven  against  it  with  the  full 
force"  of  the  mass  of  impetuous  humanity  behind 
her.  The  door  gave  way,  and  she  was  flung  bleed- 
ing and  unconscious  forward  upon  the  floor.  When 
the  girl  came  to  herself  the  beautiful,  compassionate 
face  of  Marie  Antoinette  was  bending  over  her,  the 
womanly  arm  of  the  Queen  supporting  her,  while 
with  her  handkerchief  she  sought  to  stanch  the 
bleeding  of  the  wound.  The  girl's  eyes  opened, 
and  filled  with  tears.  Then  breaking  into  a  passion 
of  weeping  she  cried  ;  "  Oh,  I  never  dreamed  she  was 
like  this  ".  So  poor  mortals,  fleeing  from  their  own 
salvation,  think  this  and  that  of  Christ,  until  the 
hour  comes  when  they  meet  His  eyes,  bending  over 
them  in  undreamed  of  tenderness  to  heal  their 
wound.  Ah,  until  that  hour  comes,  there  is  none 
of  us  that  has  ever  dreamed  He  was  like  that. 


THE  UNKNOWN  NEIGHBOUR 

"  There  standeth  one  among  you  whom  ye  know  not." — 
St.  John  i.  26. 

The  vicious  practice  of  mistaking  classification  for 
knowledge  extends  far  beyond  the  Jews'  misappre- 
hension of  John  and  Jesus.     It  vitiates  our  whole 
judgment   of   our   fellows.     As  those  priests  and 
Levites  looked  around  the  crowd  that  had  gathered 
beside  the  Jordan,  they  were  doubtless  busy  classi- 
fying   the    people    into   groups   according   to   the 
localities  from  which  they   came  and   the  trades 
they   followed.     It  never  struck   them   that   each 
one  of  these  ordinary  human  beings  had  a  signifi- 
cance of  his  own,  deep  as  hell  and  high  as  heaven. 
The  truest  and  the  rarest   kind  of  knowledge  is 
that  which  knows  familiar  things  or  people.     There 
is  no  mystery  so  wonderful  as  that  which  is  to  be 
found  nearest  home. 

One  hears  sometimes  the  more  or  less  cynical 
boast  that  such  a  man  "knows  men,"  by  which 
nothing  better  is  intended  than  that  the  critic 
has  some  unkindly  generalizations  regarding  human 

weaknesses  and  foibles,  which  he  has  chosen  for  his 

(167) 


168  THE  UNKNOWN  NEIGHBOUK 

guidance  and  protection.  This  is  but  an  extreme 
form  of  the  error  which  is  here  exposed.  Divide 
society  into  groups,  acquire  a  stock  of  ready- 
made  judgments  upon  each  of  these  groups  en 
masse,  and  trouble  yourself  no  more  about  your 
fellows.  Eich  and  poor,  sick  and  well,  young  and 
old,  educated  and  ignorant,  refined  and  vulgar, 
clever  and  stupid — chase  the  individual  into  his 
group,  and  your  responsibility  in  judging  him  is 
ended  :  as  if  all  labourers  or  shopkeepers  or  lords 
were  identical  with  the  others  of  their  class.  It  is 
in  this  way,  by  reason  of  the  barricades  natural  and 
artificial  which  we  have  thrown  up  around  classes, 
that  all  those  huge  provincialisms  arise  which 
separate  man  from  man.  There  is  the  national 
provincialism,  which  has  its  designation  for  all  men 
of  each  nation,  and  keeps  wars  and  suspicions  and 
alienations  still  among  us.  There  is  the  social  pro- 
vincialism, which  takes  for  its  unit  such  classes  as 
employers  and  employed,  and  is  responsible  for  labour 
warfare  and  class  hatred.  There  is  the  Church  pro- 
vincialism, which  asks  only  whether  a  man  is  a 
Roman  Catholic,  a  Unitarian,  or  a  member  of  this  or 
that  one  of  the  innumerable  sects  of  Protestantism, 
and  having  branded  him  with  a  name  proceeds  to 
praise  or  to  condemn  him.  It  is  incredible  until 
one  comes  to  think  of  it  how  deep  rooted  is  our 
habit  of  accepting  such  class-names  as  rigid  and 
final  standards  of  judgment,  to  be  taken  as  settling 


THE  UNKNOWN  NEIGHBOUK  169 

our  estimate  of  our  fellow-men  and  our  attitude  to- 
wards them. 

The  whole  secret  of  social  science,  as  of  all  pro- 
fessional efficiency,  is  to  end  this  dangerous  fallacy. 
It  is  said  that  a  young  lady,  annoyed  by  the  rudeness 
of  some  poorly  dressed  girls  who  were  passing  her, 
exclaimed  :  ''  Such  creatures  ought  to  be  got  rid  of," 
and  was  answered  by  her  friend,  "  Do  you  know  that 
that  is  just  what  they  are  saying  about  you  ?  "  For 
indeed  "one  half  of  the  world  does  not  know  how 
the  other  half  lives,"  and  all  our  harsh  judgments 
are  the  result  of  ignorance.  If  we  really  knew 
them — how  they  live,  how  they  weep  and  laugh — 
we  would  love  them  all.  And  the  great  secret  is 
to  be  able  to  put  ourselves  in  their  places,  to  live 
their  lives  and  think  their  thoughts  as  if  we  were 
they.  If  we  could  take  our  fellows  out  of  their 
pigeon-holes  and  let  them  reveal  themselves  simply 
as  they  are,  if  we  could  look  one  another  in  the 
face  as  man  to  man,  we  would  soon  solve  the 
social  problem. 

There  is  no  end  to  the  range  of  practical  appli- 
cations of  this  principle.  To  know  men  is  to  know 
their  hearts,  and  not  their  manners.  Those  are 
but  few  who  are  masters  of  the  difficult  art  of  self- 
expression,  and  most  men  mean  a  better  thing  than 
they  know  how  to  say.  It  is  to  know  their  tempta- 
tions, and  not  merely  their  sins.  No  judgments  are 
so  cheap  as  those  we  pass  upon  each  other's  trans- 


170  THE  UNKNOWN  NEIGHBOUK 

gressions.  The  real  standard  for  the  guilt  of  a  sin 
is  the  distance  that  had  to  be  crossed  to  reach  it. 
One,  removed  by  circumstances  or  by  taste  so  far 
from  it  that  to  commit  it  he  would  have  to  make  a 
supreme  and  painful  effort,  can  be  no  judge  of 
another  who  has  but  to  take  one  false  step  to  fall 
into  its  abyss.  It  is  one  thing  to  commit  a  crime 
to  which  one  has  no  inducement,  and  which  is  out 
of  the  whole  region  of  one's  desires.  It  is  another 
thing  to  fall  into  it  upon  the  hundredth  temptation, 
when  for  long  days  one  has  kept  off  ninety  and 
nine  temptations  that  were  tearing  the  flesh  and 
throwing  their  glamour  over  the  spirit,  until  at 
last  the  wearied  will  loses  grasp  of  resolution,  and 
the  thing  is  done. 

What's  done  we  partly  may  compute, 
But  know  not  what's  resisted. 

To  know  men  is  to  know  their  struggles  and 
desires,  and  not  merely  their  achievements.  They 
may  be  making  poor  work  of  it,  and  presenting  to 
their  critics  a  spectacle  of  almost  unbroken  failure 
and  second-rate  or  third-rate  result,  and  yet  they 
may  be  worth  far  more  than  can  be  measured  by 
results.  God  only  knows  the  shame  and  discour- 
agement in  their  hearts  because  of  those  failures 
that  the  world  judges  so  lightly.  He  measures 
them  not  by  what  they  have  done  or  are  yet  doing, 
but  by  what  they  are  longing  for  and  trying.  He 
''  calleth  things  that  are  not  as  though  they  were," 


THE  UNKNOWN  NEIGHBOUE  171 

and  sees  and  counts  the  secret  effort  and  ideal,  so 
long  as  men  are  honestly  striving  to  realize  it. 

All  instincts  immature, 
All  purposes  unsure, 
That  weighed  not  as  his  work,  yet  swelled  the  man's  amount  .  .  . 
All  I  could  never  be. 
All  men  ignored  in  me. 
This,  I  was  worth  to  God,  whose  wheel  the  pitcher  shaped. 

And  indeed  such  hidden  purposes  and  desires  may 
one  day  surprise  the  world  with  their  actual  achieve- 
ment. It  is  never  safe  to  despise  one  of  these  little 
ones.  They  may  be  waiting  for  their  hour,  in  which 
they  will  humiliate  those  who  have  discounted 
them.  In  all  our  knowledge  of  men  it  is  wise  to 
allow  wide  margins  for  slumbering  powers,  and  to 
seek  to  discover  such  if  we  mLj. 

To  know  men  is  to  know  their  ivorth,  and  not 
merely  their  defects.     In  every  life  there  is  both 
good  and  evil,  and  we  are  all  vexing  and  irritating 
each   other   in   more    or    less    unconscious   ways. 
Yet,  thank  God,  we  are  all  helping  on  each  other's 
lives    also,    and   the   general  life   of   man   is   for- 
warded  not   by   immaculate   people,  but   by  very 
faulty  ones,  who  yet   have  the  qualities   of  their 
defects.     Those   are   wise  who   train   their   minds 
to  appreciation  rather   than   to  censure,  who  can 
discount  annoyances  that  they  may  discover  genuine 
worth  of  character.     One  of  the  commonest  kinds 
of   tragedy   in   life    is   that   of   those   who,   while 


172  THE  UNKNOWN  NEIGHBOUE 

their  friends  are  with  them,  see  only  the  disagree- 
able traits,  and  hear  only  the  jarring  discords. 
When  the  friends  are  gone  they  discover  too 
late  how  great  a  gap  they  have  been  filling,  and 
how  many  quiet  services  they  have  been  rendering. 

So  far  we  have  been  finding  how  much  it  means 
when  we  say  we  know  each  other.  It  means  that 
we  have  acquired  that  finest  art  of  appreciating  the 
unadvertised  excellences,  the  silent  courage  of  un- 
victorious  struggles,  the  hidden  beauties  that  lurk 
beneath  the  dust  of  the  wayside  or  the  dead  leaves 
of  the  wood.  All  this  means  that  we  have  learned 
the  secret  of  the  Lord  who  looketh  not  on  the  out- 
ward appearance  but  on  the  heart. 

But  there  is  a  deeper  secret  yet — the  secret  of 
Jesus  Christ.  The  usual  standard  by  which  men 
judge  one  another  is  the  essentially  selfish  one  of 
how  much  the  man  is  worth  to  his  critic.  How 
much  can  I  learn  from  him  or  receive  from  him  ? 
How  much  can  he  give  me  of  '*  love,  amusement, 
sympathy  ?  "  Judged  by  that  standard  we  shall  all 
find  many  apparently  worthless  people  around  us. 
But  if  we  would  reverse  the  standard,  and  ask  what 
is  their  need  of  us  instead  of  what  is  their  value  to 
us,  we  should  find  ourselves  in  a  new  world.  In- 
stead of  seeking  to  exploit  the  wealth  of  the  natures 
about  us,  we  might  explore  their  poverty  in  the 
hope  of  enriching  it.  That  is  the  authentic  note  of 
Christ — the  instinct  of  the  saviour.     And  for  the 


THE  UNKNOWN  NEIGHBOUK  173 

saviour  there  can  be  no  uninteresting  people  any- 
where. For  him,  the  most  impoverished  lives  are 
indeed  the  most  interesting ;  and  the  less  there  is 
to  receive,  the  more  chance  there  is  for  giving. 

Those  who  would  really  know  men,  and  taste  the 
full  wonder  of  the  human  world  about  them,  must 
leave  off  complaining  that  no  one  understands  them, 
or  helps  them,  or  cares  for  them.  We  are  not  here 
to  be  understood  but  to  understand  ;  not  to  receive 
but  to  give.  Those  are  twice  blessed  who  know 
and  practise  that  great  rule  of  life.  For  to  them 
there  can  be  no  dull  moment  amid  a  world  so  full 
of  need ;  and  as  they  walk  to  and  fro  to  under- 
stand and  bless  their  fellows,  they  shall  have  the 
companionship  of  Jesus  Christ. 


THE  UNKNOWN  SELF 

"  There  standeth  one  among  you  whom  ye  know  not." — 
St.  John  i.  26. 

The  distinction  between  classification  and  know- 
ledge tempts  us  to  go  one  step  farther,  and  surely 
every  man  in  earnest  about  his  deeper  life  will  feel 
that  this  step  (whether  the  priests  and  Levites  took 
it  or  not)  is  not  only  justifiable  but  necessary.  The 
mystery  of  human  life  reaches  its  depth,  not  in  the 
lives  of  others,  but  in  our  own  ;  and  the  one  among 
us  whom  we  know  least  of  all  is  just  ourself.  ''In 
one  sense  of  the  word  it  is  of  course  necessary,  as 
the  Greek  oracle  said,  to  know  oneself.  That  is 
the  first  achievement  of  knowledge.  But  to  recog- 
nize that  the  soul  of  a  man  is  unknowable,  is  the 
ultimate  achievement  of  wisdom.  The  final  mystery 
is  oneself."  These  words  of  Oliver  Wendell  Holmes 
are  true  and  weighty.  Yet  there  are  recesses  of 
that  buried  life  of  ours  which  we  may  explore. 
We  may  not  know  the  deep  mystery  of  our  being, 
but  we  all  may  come  to  know  ourselves  far  better 
than  we  do. 

We  think  we  know  ourselves  well,  and  there  is 

(174) 


THE  UNKNOWN  SELF  175 

not  one  of  us  but  has  catalogued  himself  more  or 
less  to  his  own  satisfaction.  Yet  these  judgments 
never  quite  satisfy  us.  Doubts  invade  the  securest 
and  most  self-complacent  at  times,  as  to  how  we 
look  from  without,  and  we  are  curious  ''to  see 
ourselves  as  others  see  us  ".  J.  B.  Gough,  himself 
the  prince  of  mimics,  used  to  say  that  he  would  go 
a  hundred  miles  to  see  any  one  imitating  him. 
And  at  times  a  deeper  doubt  invades  our  security. 
Not  only  would  we  correct  by  the  judgments  of 
others  our  estimate  of  our  own  worth  and  place 
among  men,  but  we  wonder  what  we  really  are, 
and  would  measure  ourselves  by  greater  and  more 
eternal  standards.     ''  I  go  to  find  my  soul." 

When  a  man  goes  out  on  this  adventure,  con- 
science walks  for  guide  by  his  bridle  rein.  Much 
of  his  piety  turns  out  to  be,  like  that  of  William 
Law's  Poenitens  on  his  death-bed,  ''imaginary 
piety".  He  sees  how  shallow  and  self-indulgent 
many  of  his  virtues  have  been,  and  how  many 
motives  of  mere  prudence  or  of  actual  selfishness 
lay  unseen  behind  fair  deeds.  He  sees  a  multitude 
of  sins  where  formerly  none  were  visible  at  all. 
For  those  sins  were  guarded  with  excuses,  and  he 
regarded  them  in  the  light  of  their  history.  He 
knew  how  they  began,  what  circumstances  hemmed 
them  in  until  they  seemed  inevitable,  how  subtly 
they  blended  with  innocent  and  even  noble  aspira- 
tions.   To  him  they  are  but  habits  and  peculiarities, 


176  THE  UNKNOWN  SELF 

or  at  the  worst  weaknesses  or  unfortunate  neces- 
sities of  the  situation.  To  know  yourself  is  to  strip 
from  your  sins  their  coverings  of  excuse  and  pallia- 
tion, and  to  know  them  for  what  they  are.  Such 
knowledge  is  never  flattering.  It  leads  a  man 
among  strange  companions,  until  he  cannot  look 
upon  a  drunkard  or  a  thief  without  the  sinister 
conviction  that  they  are  remarkably  like  himself ; 
for  the  same  self-indulgence  and  the  same  covetous- 
ness  and  disregard  of  the  rights  of  others,  are  actu- 
ally in  him  though  they  have  not  come  out  into  such 
broad  expression.     We  are  all  worse  than  we  think. 

Yet  that  is  not  the  only  truth.  If  that  lurid 
picture  were  man's  true  self,  and  that  were  the  last 
word  God  had  to  say  to  life,  then  we  might  throw 
up  the  attempt  altogether.  But  things  are  not  so 
bad  as  that,  and  there  need  be  no  such  word  as  de- 
spair for  any  man.      We  are  all  better  than  we  think. 

That  is  a  bold  word,  and  yet  it  is  literally  true, 
and  true  for  every  man.  Discouraged  people, 
downcast  after  many  failures,  are  tempted  to  dis- 
count themselves  and  say  that  they  are  mere  no- 
bodies and  it  is  no  use  for  them  to  try.  The  late 
Dr.  Joseph  Parker,  speaking  on  this  subject,  an- 
swered such  a  complaint  with  the  shout  that  "  God 
has  not  time  to  make  nobodies ".  And  in  very 
truth  we  are  all  bigger  than  that ;  we  all  do  count 
for  something.  ''  Trust  thyself  :  "  says  Emerson, 
"every  heart  vibrates  to   that  iron  string".     The 


THE  UNKNOWN  SELF  177 

downcast  ones  hear  such  a  word  with  amazement, 
having  learned  to  distrust  themselves  by  bitter 
experience. 

They  need  to  be  reminded  that  our  manhood  is 
but  in  the  making,  and  that  we  are  all  good  for 
making  men  of.  As  the  caterpillar  is  to  the  butter- 
fly, such  is  our  actual  self  to  the  self  we  may 
become.  We  have  to  learn  to  live  and  think  on 
the  platform  of  the  ideal ;  to  repudiate  ourselves 
as  we  are  and  lay  hold  on  a  nobler  manhood  which 
is  our  true  self.  We  have  to  say  every  day  to  our- 
selves, ''Get  thee  behind  me,"  and  to  keep  our 
eyes  steadily  fixed  on  that  which  we  would  fain 
be.     In  the  great  words  of  Walt  Whitman  : — 

You   broken  resolutions,    you   racking   angers,  you  short-lived 

ennuis, 
Ah,  think  not  you  shall  finally  triumph,  my  real  self  has  yet  to 

come  forth. 
It  shall  march  forth  over-mastering,  till  all  lie  beneath  me, 
It  shall  stand  up,  the  soldier  of  unquestioned  victory. 

Thus  to  know  oneself  is  to  know  something  at  least 

of  one's  possibilities,  and  to  believe  that  they  are 

real  possibilities  and  not  fictions. 

This  holds  true  for  every  detail   of   character. 

Some  will   admit   it   in   a   general   way,  but   will 

always  make  exceptions  in  regard  to  those  points 

on  which  they  feel  themselves  peculiarly  weak.    He 

who  is  lazy,  either  by  disposition  or  by  habit,  looks 

on  with  wonder  at  the  amount  of  work  his  neigh- 

12 


178  THE  UNKNOWN  SELF 

bour  manages  to  get  through  ;  for  himself,  he  simply 
has  no  time  for  it.  As  a  matter  of  fact  he  has 
exactly  as  much  time  as  the  other  has,  but  he 
has  no  idea  of  the  amount  of  diligence  he  is  cap- 
able of,  nor  of  how  elastic  time  is,  and  how  it 
yields  to  determination.  The  weak  man  envies  the 
strong,  and  imagines  that  strength  lies  in  nerve  and 
muscle.  As  a  matter  of  fact  it  lies  mostly  in 
making  up  one's  mind  and  keeping  it  made  up  :  and 
weakness  in  every  case  has  an  element  in  it  of 
self-indulgence  which  is  wholly  in  our  power  to 
check  or  to  encourage.  The  besetting  sin  of  an- 
other man  is  lust,  and  to  him  the  innocence  of  the 
pure  in  heart  seems  inhuman  and  impossible.  He 
does  not  know  how  purity  is  won,  nor  how  it  is  main- 
tained. The  control  of  imagination  and  desire,  the 
honour  of  the  spirit,  are  things  which  any  man  may 
learn  and  keep  unstained,  if  he  will  but  be  resolute 
and  self-denying  enough  to  do  it.  Another  man 
is  gloomy,  and  his  hard  lot  has  embittered  him. 
Cheerful  people  provoke  him,  and  he  dismisses 
their  example  from  his  conscience  on  the  ground 
that  they  are  naturally  light-hearted,  and  presum- 
ably shallow.  The  truth  is  that  a  bright  spirit  is 
the  reward  of  self-discipline.  The  misanthrope  has 
no  idea  how  many  smiles  are  at  his  command,  nor 
how  easily  he  might  escape  from  gloom  if  he  would 
think  of  others  and  forget  himself.  Another  is 
impulsive  but  lacking  in  constancy.    Quick  tempers 


THE  UNKNOWN  SELF  179 

flash  in  him,  and  undo  his  resolutions  and  be- 
ginnings. Yet  he  has  never  realized  that  it  needs 
not  to  be  so.  He,  too,  can  be  patient  and  persevere. 
He  always  yields  and  changes  before  the  end  of  his 
powers  of  endurance  have  come.  He  might  have 
held  on  a  little  longer.  Some  of  the  most  calm 
and  evenly  balanced  men  used  to  be  irritable  and 
uncertain,  some  of  the  most  dogged  used  to  be 
volatile.  When  we  are  tempted  to  say  that  things 
have  gone  over  us,  and  to  let  go,  it  is  well  to  re- 
member this,  and  to  refuse  the  tempter. 

So  far  we  have  dealt  with  character  in  general, 
especially  as  it  meets  us  in  our  weakest  point.  But 
there  is  also  our  strongest  point — some  line  of 
special  power  and  capacity  which  we  are  born  to 
find  and  to  work  out.  Every  one  has  such  a  strong 
point,  though  not  every  one  discovers  what  it  is ; 
and  most  men  have  a  very  strong  point  indeed,  so 
much  their  own  that  if  they  find  it  it  will  amount 
at  least  to  talent,  and  possibly  even  to  genius.  Let 
the  poorest  of  spirits  be  but  ''anointed  by  the  oc- 
casion," let  him  fully  find  his  life's  opportunity, 
and  he  will  be  suddenly  transformed.  Those  who 
formerly  discounted  him  will  find  to  their  aston- 
ishment that  it  is  now  no  laughing  matter  to  oppose 
him,  for  a  man  who  has  thus  discovered  his 
strength  is  ever  ''a  stark  man  to  his  enemies". 
This  is  a  truth  especially  for  those  who  have  failed 
in  this  or  that  line.    Such  failure  should  be  regarded 


180  THE  UNKNOWN  SELF 

as  a  guide,  not  an  eviction.  It  is  a  challenge  and 
not  a  doom.  Sometimes  it  may  mean  that  you  are 
called  to  make  a  new  and  more  strenuous  effort  at 
the  same  ideal :  sometimes  it  may  point  to  some 
other  venture.  There  is  a  line  which  offers  you 
your  chance  of  greatness  and  victory,  whether  it  be 
the  one  along  which  your  first  attempt  was  made  or 
some  other.  What  you  need  is  to  believe  in  your- 
self. Whenever  you  are  tempted  to  lament  a 
natural  defect,  or  the  limitations  of  circumstances, 
or  the  shame  of  failure,  say  to  your  soul  that  you 
do  not  yet  know  yourself.  You  have  not  yet 
discovered  your  own  powers  of  resistance,  or  of 
strength,  or  of  tenderness.  Go  out  again  to  find 
your  soul,  and  go  as  a  man  going  to  claim  an 
inheritance.  For  indeed,  like  Parsifal,  you  are 
''heir  to  this  glories  you  ride  forth  to  seek". 

And  there  is  more  than  that.  On  the  Castle  Rock 
in  Edinburgh  four  bugles  blow  the  last  post  over 
the  darkening  city  every  night.  One  31st  of  March 
long  ago,  it  is  said  that  a  bugler  was  murdered 
there.  The  legend  tells  that  on  every  31st  of 
March  the  listeners  in  streets  and  homes  hear  the 
ghostly  sound  of  a  fifth  bugler,  calling  as  of  old. 
So  over  our  lives  sound  many  bugles,  calling  us  to 
courage  and  manhood.  But  beyond  these,  at 
times,  the  spirit  hears  a  fifth  bugle — the  call  of 
Christ  Himself  from  the  ramparts,  ''  Because  I 
live,  ye  shall  live  also". 


DUTY  AND  PLEASUEE 

"  Are  not  Abana  and  Pharpar,  rivers  of  Damascus,  better  than 
all  the  waters  of  Israel?  " — 2  Kings  v.  12. 

Few  figures  in  the  Old  Testament  impress  us  with 
a  more  living  and  human  interest  than  that  of 
Naaman  the  Syrian.  He  appears  as  one  of  the 
first  gentlemen  of  Damascus,  and  Damascus  was 
the  Paris  of  the  ancient  East.  It  was  famous  as 
the  chief  centre  of  the  Aramaean  caravan  traffic, 
and  consequently  the  commercial  capital  of  a  vast 
region  of  land.  It  was  famous  also  for  its  beauty, 
and  was  well  named  ''the  Pearl,"  lying  like  a  white 
star  caught  and  glad  to  stay  in  the  luxuriant  wealth 
of  green  that  everywhere  surrounds  it — an  exqui- 
site oasis  rescued  by  the  Abana  from  the  edge  of 
the  tawny  desert.  From  age  to  age  it  lies  there, 
sphinx-like  in  its  gaze  across  the  desert,  unheeding 
of  the  flight  of  time  or  the  passing  of  the  genera- 
tions, sufficient  to  itself  and  absorbed  wholly  in  its 
own  wonderful  life.  Add  to  all  this  the  fact  that 
for  the  time  being  it  was  rejoicing  in  a  victory  over 
its  Western  rival  Israel,  and  you  have  the  very 
place  where  a  man  might  be  content  with  the  earth, 

and,  unlike  Mohammed,  wish  for  no  other  Paradise. 

(181) 


182  DUTY  AND  PLEASUEE 

At  the  forefront  of  all  this  stands  Naaman, 
wealthy,  famous,  victorious  ;  popular  alike  with  his 
king  and  with  his  servants,  beloved  and  happy  in  his 
home.  Yet  upon  him  has  come  the  terrific  doom 
of  leprosy,  running  its  iron  wedge  deep  into  the 
golden  dream.  Suddenly  the  spell  is  broken,  and 
we  seem  to  hear  the  sickening  of  the  music,  and  to 
see  the  fountains  dying  and  the  sunshine  fading  out. 
From  an  enchantment  life  has  become  a  delirium. 
Everything  has  lost  its  reality,  and  the  phantom 
world  about  him  is  full  of  mockery. 

Then  he  remembers  a  land  famous  for  realities. 
It  has  no  such  splendour  of  palaces  and  fountains, 
no  such  gorgeous  luxuriance  of  Nature,  no  such 
commercial  greatness  nor  military  glory.  Yet  they 
seem  to  be  in  touch  with  deeper  facts  there,  and  to 
have  penetrated  further  into  the  heart  of  things. 
It  is  not  a  land  to  trouble  with  while  all  is  well ; 
but  now,  what  can  a  man  do  ? 

So  he  sets  off  on  the  long  journey.  The  swift 
chariot-drives  through  that  glorious  air  would  have 
been  things  to  remember,  were  a  man  well  enough 
to  delight  in  them.  The  ravines  of  Hauran  and  its 
wide  corn-fields  bring  him  to  the  long  Samaritan 
valleys,  and  to  the  palace  of  the  king.  But  the 
king  is  pusillanimous,  and  the  prophet  haughty. 
He  sees  only  a  servant  and  receives  directions  to 
v/ash  in  their  river.  Then  the  leper  is  forgotten 
and  the  great  official  remembered.      He  has  ex- 


DUTY  AND  PLEASUEE  183 

pected  pomp  and  circumstance  befitting  his  dignity, 
and  his  gorge  rises  at  this  inhospitable  land  and  its 
unmannerly  ways  and  its  despised  waters. 

It  was  not  the  rivers  that  Naaman  set  in  con- 
trast, so  much  as  the  lands  of  which  they  were  the 
symbols  and  indeed  creators.  Jordan,  flinging  its 
great  arm  round  the  whole  East  of  Palestine,  cuts 
it  out  from  the  desert.  Abana,  carefully  distributed 
in  many  channels  along  its  upper  valley,  is  literally 
the  one  fact  which  makes  Damascus  possible.  It 
is  Syria  as  against  Israel  that  Naaman  praises. 
In  fierce  reaction  the  weary  and  disappointed  man 
turns  back  to  the  streams  that  were  his  home  and 
childhood.  He  remembers  "  those  wonderful  tropic 
nights,  when  the  whole  world  lies  in  a  silver  dream, 
when  the  little  wandering  airs  that  touch  your  cheek 
like  a  caress  are  heavy  with  the  scent  of  flowers, 
and  your  heart  comes  into  your  throat  for  the  very 
beauty  of  life  ".  His  home  and  childhood — but  the 
servant's  words  remind  him  that  he  has  no  home, 
no  childhood  any  more.  Abana  and  Pharpar  are 
already  flowing  beside  his  grave. 

In  reality  the  rivers  stood  for  types  of  a  still  wider - 
and  more  eternal  contrast  than  that  between  the 
lands.  For  the  lands  themselves  were  typical.  The 
contrast  is  between  the  brilliant  and  alluring  life  of 
self-indulgence,  and  the  life  of  duty  and  sacrifice 
and  the  solemn  truths  of  religion.  Put  it  at  its 
worst,   and   set  the   witchery  of    the  earth   over 


184  DUTY  AND  PLEASUEE 

against  the  dullness  of  heaven  ;  the  poignant  beauty 
of   life  over  against  the  chill  of  religion.     There 
come  times  in  every  life  when  the  choice  wears  just 
that  aspect,  and  yet  a  man  must  choose.    Which  will 
you  take  as  the  key  to  your  destiny,  and  treat  as 
the  reality  for  which  the  other  must  be  sacrificed  ? 
Let  us  examine  this  rivalry  for  a  little : — 
1.   The  Case  for  Damascus.     This  has  been  com- 
pletely stated  in  the  beautiful  words,  ''  Abana  and 
Pharpar   also   rose    in    the    hills   of   God".       In- 
deed all  three  rivers  rise  within  a  few  miles  of 
each  other's  fountains,  in  the  regions  of  Hermon 
and  lower  Antilibanus.     Naaman  may  well  have 
remembered  this,  and  asked  why  the  chance  cir- 
cumstance of  a  river's  flowing  north  or  south  should 
determine  the  healing  power  of  its  waters.     In  no 
respect  was  one  river  superior  to  the  other.     Jor- 
dan, where  Naaman  would  cross  it,  was  as  clear  and 
sweet  as  Abana ;  and  if  Jordan  never  reached  the 
sea,  neither  did  the  rivers  of  Damascus. 

And  as  it  was  with  the  rivers,  so  also  it  was  with 
the  ways  of  life  they  typified.  The  springs  of  joy 
are  ever  near  the  fountain  of  tears.  Gladness  has 
no  more  necessary  quarrel  with  conscience  than 
sorrow  has.  The  splendour  of  Damascus  is  ideally 
as  divine  a  thing  as  the  naked  colourless  land  of 
Israel.  In  a  word,  it  is  all  a  question  of  tempera- 
ments and  moods,  and  to  some  of  these  Abana  is 
frankly  more  congenial  than  Jordan.    The  world  is 


DUTY  AND  PLEASUKE  185 

very  fair.     The  singers  of  its  beauty  are  convincing 
— Shelley  and  Swinburne  and  Eossetti  and  the  rest. 
Science  and  art,  commerce  and  industry,  work  and 
pleasure — all  these  stand  in  their  own  right,  plead- 
ing the  brilliancy  of  life,  its  promise  and  its  fulfil- 
ment of  desire,  as  their  own  justification.     These 
ideals  are  so  intelligible,  so  presentable,  so  inter- 
esting, that,  to  confess  the  truth,  when  these  are 
at   their    height,    the    religious    alternative    often 
appears  utterly  dreary.     It  lacks  the  diablerie,  the 
subtle  play  and  magic,  of  the  world.     The  narrow- 
ness of  the  way  of  Christ,  and  the  unreasonable 
bitterness  of  his  cross,  serve  only  as  a  foil  to  the 
delights  of  the  rival  way.    Some  attempt  a  compro- 
mise by  some  one  of    the  many  popular  ways  of 
blending  Christianity  with  self-indulgent  worldliness 
— ways  which  keep  nearer  the  earth  than  Christ, 
and  so  retain  something  of  earth's  glamour.    Some 
boldly  confront   the   alternative   and   deliberately 
choose  the  world. 

We  all  know  what  that  challenge  means — "  Ee- 
nounce  the  world ".  But  is  not  the  world  good  ? 
Have  not  the  secular  and  the  sacred  common 
springs  in  the  heart  of  God  ?  Surely,  according  to 
temperament,  men  may  decide  for  themselves,  and 
choose  the  way  that  each  finds  most  congenial. 
^'Both  the  Greek  and  the  Hebrew  spirit  reach  the 
infinite,  the  Greek  spirit  by  beauty,  the  Hebrew 
spirit  by  sublimity." 


186  DUTY  AND  PLEASUEE 

2.  The  Ansiver  of  Israel.  Much  of  all  this  plead- 
ing may  be  granted.  We  believe  in  life  and  we 
love  it.  We  know  quite  well  that  every  good  gift 
and  every  perfect  gift  cometh  down  from  the  Father 
of  lights.  BUT — lie  ivas  a  leper.  This  is  not  a 
question  of  general  excellence  and  legitimacy,  but 
a  question  of  power  to  cleanse  leprosy.  When  it 
comes  to  that,  Abana  is  as  useless  as  it  is  fair,  and 
Jordan  has  the  power  to  bring  a  man's  flesh  back 
like  the  flesh  of  a  little  child. 

There  are  facts  in  life  which  have  to  be  dealt 
with,  grim  facts  which  every  man  must  face  sooner 
or  later.  There  is  the  terror  as  well  as  the  beauty 
of  the  world.  How  does  Abana  deal  with  the 
tragedy  of  disease,  and  misery,  and  sin  ?  The  wor- 
ship of  Rimmon  takes  for  its  emblem  the  pome- 
granate, and  understands  well  the  luscious  powers 
of  nature  while  they  last.  But  summer  dies,  and 
then  comes  the  weeping  for  Adonis.  There  is  an 
incurable  sadness  in  nature  and  in  all  forms  of 
nature-worship.  It  seems  good  for  the  days  of 
sunshine  and  of  health  ;  but  when  bodies  grow  sick 
and  hearts  are  broken  and  consciences  on  fire  with 
remorse,  it  is  futile  and  can  but  weep. 

Goethe  describes  the  ancients  as  feeling  them- 
selves at  once  and  without  further  wanderings  at 
ease  within  the  limits  of  this  beautiful  world. 
Marklin  says:  ''I  would  with  all  my  heart  be  a 
heathen,  for  here  I  find  truth,  nature,  greatness  ". 


DUTY  AND  PLEASUBB  187 

The  answer  is  "the  deep  suppressed  melancholy"  of 
the  Greeks,  the  "  subtle  inextinguishable  sadness  " 
which  every  reader  of  their  literature  knows. 
Heine,  who  knew  and  loved  the  beauty  of  the 
world  so  well,  came  to  his  mattress-grave  at  last ; 
and  he  tells  how  he  stretched  out  his  hands  to  the 
Venus  he  had  worshipped.  But  she  could  not  help 
him  :  her  arms  were  broken. 

We  are  not  taking  back  any  word  of  what  was 
said  for  the  charm  of  the  earth.  It  is  a  genuine 
approach  to  God,  but  it  is  irrelevant  and  ineffec- 
tive here.  We  are  not  "  forcing  a  narrow  judgment 
on  an  angry  or  a  laughing  world":  it  is  leprosy 
that  is  forcing  it.  Men  must  face  the  facts,  and 
what  this  fact  needs  is  a  river  of  healing  waters 
that  can  make  a  man  clean. 

It  all  comes  back  to  this  one  question— What  is 
it  that  you  want  from  God  ?  Is  it  but  a  few  fresh 
mornings  and  evenings  tender  with  beauty  ?  Or  is 
it  the  healing  of  your  soul's  disease  and  wound  ? 

One  thing  I  of  the  Lord  desire, 

For  all  my  way  hath  miry  been ; 
Be  it  by  water  or  by  fire, 
Lord,  make  me  clean. 

For  that  you  must  come  back  to  the  waters  of 
Israel,  the  "  fountain  opened  for  sin  and  for  un- 
cleanness  ".  Jesus  Christ  is  the  master  of  realities, 
and  there  is  no  point  of  tragedy  at  which  He  fails 
and  leaves  men  weeping.     He  is  no  enemy  of  the 


188  DUTY  AND  PLEASUKE 

sunshine  or  the  sweetness  of  life,  but  He  is  the 
victor  over  its  terror.  And  for  us  there  can  be  only 
one  loyalty.  Either  we  must  throw  in  our  lot  with 
that  which  will  inevitably  fail  us,  or  with  Him  who 
saves  to  the  uttermost. 


OPINION  AND  KNOWLEDGE 

"Behold  I  thought  .  .  .  behold  now  I  know." — 2  Kings 
V.  11,  15. 

It  is  the  story  of  a  man  who  went  out  to  seek  for 
a  magician  and  who  found  a  God,  exchanging 
thoughts   for   knowledge. 

Naamaiis  thoughts  are  enumerated  in  verse  11. 
He  had  rehearsed  the  scene  and  planned  out  all  its 
detail.  A  lordly  set  of  thoughts  they  were,  and 
from  Naaman's  standpoint  entirely  satisfactory  and 
convincing.  The  one  suspicious  element  is  the 
completeness  of  the  programme.  It  would  seem  as 
if  it  were  not  God  but  Naaman  who  was  arranging 
this  cure. 

Behind  these  thoughts  of  his  lay  many  things. 
First,  his  military  training.  He  has  the  confidence 
and  swaggering  arrogance  of  the  popular  general  of 
an  oriental  king.  He  has  the  soldier's  precision  in 
thinking  out  schemes  of  all  kinds.  His  system  is 
exact,  detailed,  consistent,  thorough— only,  it  is  all 
wrong.  "Nothing  sits  worse  on  a  fighting  man 
than  too  much  knowledge,"  it  has  been  said, ''  except 
perhaps  a  lively  imagination."     In  dealing  with  the 

(189) 


190  OPINION  AND  KNOWLEDGE 

great  facts  of  life  and  death  we  have  to  put  away 
our  habit  of  command  and  our  delight  in  arrange- 
ment, and  to  accept  an  order  of  things  which  has 
been  fixed  without  our  being  consulted. 

Then  there  was  the  palace  life  of  Damascus.  In 
those  dreaming  oasis  cities  of  the  East,  men's  minds 
are  drunk  with  sun  and  blind  with  barbaric  splend- 
our. Life  is  half  a  pageant  and  half  a  game,  in 
which  the  magic  of  the  desert  mingles  and  over 
which  its  spell  is  cast.  All  these  elements  are  here, 
and  about  the  story  of  the  jingling  cavalcade  and 
the  costly  presents  there  is  the  scent  of  sandal-wood 
and  incense.  There  was,  indeed,  another  side  to 
Naaman.  The  affection  of  the  slave-girl,  and  the 
friendly  talk  of  the  orderlies,  show  a  kindly  and 
humane  personaHty  behind  the  mask  of  pomp  and 
circumstance.  But,  like  many  others,  he  puts  away 
that  frank  human  nature  when  dealing  with  religion, 
and  the  figure  we  see  is  stiff  with  the  brocade  of 
ceremony. 

Also,  there  is  the  religion  of  Baal  Rimmon,  the 
worship  of  Nature  and  the  Sun.  This  worship  had 
not  then  reached  its  ideal  forms,  that  gave  rise  to 
the  dreams  of  spiritual  light  and  purity  which  fas- 
cinated decadent  Rome  in  later  centuries.  It  was 
but  a  kind  of  sorcery,  the  most  advanced  and  daring 
phase  of  earthliness  masquerading  as  a  religion. 
It  was  a  religion  with  all  the  worship  eaten  out  of 
it  by  commerce  and  pride  and  superstition.     It  had 


OPINION  AND  KNOWLEDGE  191 

no  spiritual  side  at  all — no  faith,  no  love,  no  obe- 
dience— but  only  a  glorified  commercialism  and  the 
spectacular  pride  of  life,  in  which  an  elaborately 
theatrical  healing  was  to  be  paid  for  in  so  much 
coin. 

Into  the  midst  of  thoughts  that  rose  out  of  these 
things  falls  the  leprosy.  The  world  which  Naaman's 
thoughts  have  constructed  about  him  appears  fan- 
tastically unreal  then,  but  he  will  keep  up  appear- 
ances hardily.  Whatever  chilling  loneliness  may 
have  invaded  his  soul  in  quiet  hours,  yet  to 
the  general  he  still  is  the  grand  seigneur,  indignant 
that  a  gentleman  like  him  should  have  to  conform 
to  the  rough  manners  of  the  land  of  Israel.  In 
spite  of  the  leprosy,  God  is  not  in  all  his  thoughts. 
He  simply  desires  to  utilize  a  local  divinity,  and 
enslave  him  for  a  price  paid. 

It  was  a  very  natural  way  of  thinking.  It  was 
what  he  had  been  accustomed  to,  and  what  every 
one  else  about  him  thought.  He  was  constructing 
God  out  of  his  education  and  the  popular  opinions, 
as  most  men  have  always  done.  It  was  very 
natural,  but  it  nearly  cost  him  his  healing.  The 
price  of  thoughts  is  easy  to  ignore,  but  it  must  be 
paid.  Countless  men  debar  themselves  from  all 
life's  highest  gifts  and  chances  simply  because  they 
are  so  set  in  their  own  opinions  that  they  refuse  to 
change  them,  or  even  to  consider  a  new  point  of 
view.     No  class  of  men  is  more  pathetic  than  that 


192  OPINION  AND  KNOWLEDGE 

of  those  who  tenaciously  and  proudly  cling  to  ideas 
of  their  own,  and  cannot  find  healing  for  their 
souls.  May  not  the  price  of  such  men's  thoughts 
be  too  high  ? 

Naaman's  knowledge  comes  to  him  with  a  rush  of 
new  thoughts,  supplanting  the  old.  These,  the 
thoughts  of  a  man  restored  from  a  loathsome  death 
to  fresh  and  clean  vitality,  we  may  well  imagine. 
But  better  than  them  all  was  a  new  knowledge. 
Indeed  the  old  thoughts  were  not  knowledge.  Ee- 
ligious  and  secular  alike,  they  played  on  the  surface 
of  things.  But  there  had  come  one  commanding 
certainty — There  is  a  God.  It  was  not  merely  a 
new  and  brilliant  thought  among  the  others.  It 
was  a  grand  certainty  founded  upon  experience. 
Health  quivered  through  every  nerve,  and  rushed 
through  every  vein  of  his  body,  and  the  healed  man 
knew  the  touch  of  God.  It  was  experience,  the 
experience  of  healing,  that  brought  him  knowledge. 
The  curse  of  leprosy  had  not  done  this.  It  had 
only  added  other  thoughts,  more  bitter  but  not  more 
true,  than  the  former  ones.  But  God's  healing  had 
done  it,  for  that  is  the  convincing  thing  that  can 
turn  thoughts  into  knowledge. 

There  are  still  some  whose  religion  is  a  mere 
set  of  opinions,  promiscuously  gathered,  and  others 
who  can  say,  ''  I  kiiow  whom  I  have  believed  ".  And, 
as  a  rule,  it  is  not  misery  but  healing  grace  that  has 
wrought  this  change.  The  blind  man  of  Jerusalem 
knew   not  this  or  that  of  the   opinions  that  men 


OPINION  AND  KNOWLEDGE  193 

tossed  to  and  fro  about  Jesus.  But  one  thing 
he  knew,  "  that  whereas  I  was  blind  now  I  see  ". 
That  is  no  opinion,  but  absolute  knowledge  given 
by  experience.  A  man  knows  that  God  who  has 
pitied  his  misery  and  healed  his  disease. 

Let  us  turn  from  Naaman  to  ourselves,  and  see 
the  same  contrast  between  opinion  and  knowledge 
which  he  found  so  long  ago. 

Our  thoughts  are  a  strange  and  valuable  field 
for  study.  A  man's  opinions  rise  for  the  most 
part  unconsciously  in  him,  built  up  out  of  his 
education,  his  prejudices,  his  stray  reading,  his 
intercourse  with  other  men,  and  his  sense  of  the 
spirit  of  the  age.  Some,  displeased  with  the  con- 
fusion of  opinion  within  them,  construct  a  system, 
which  will  serve  for  a  more  or  less  elaborate  and 
consistent  theory  of  life.  Some  very  brilliant  con- 
structions of  this  sort  will  come  to  every  reader's 
mind  :  for  this  is  a  time  in  which  many  clever  men 
have  felt  called  upon  to  announce  to  us  their  newly 
constructed  religious  systems.  We  are  startled 
by  the  novelty  of  every  page,  by  the  interest  and 
the  ingenuity  of  it  all.  These  men  are  evidently 
world-builders,  creators  of  a  new  universe  which  is 
no  doubt  in  many  points  a  vast  improvement  on 
this  one.  Only — it  is  not  so.  Theirs  is  not  the  uni- 
verse we  have  to  live  in  and  deal  with.  We  may 
leave  them  alone  and  return  to  the  consideration  of 
our  own  opinions. 

13 


194  OPINION  AND  KNOWLEDGE 

There  are  several  sources  of  error  which  falsify 
the  opinions  of  the  ordinary  man.  (1)  We  do  not 
know  all  the  facts,  and  the  inadequate  basis  of 
fact  stultifies  the  whole.  Our  opinions  are  but 
patchwork  theories  of  things,  pieced  together  as 
it  were  out  of  fragments  which  we  have  overheard. 
(2)  Self-will  intrudes  upon  our  thinking,  and  we 
come  to  believe  what  we  have  determined  shall  be 
so.  (3)  Desire,  with  its  thousand  earth-born  longings 
and  regrets,  forms  a  heated  and  delusive  atmo- 
sphere about  the  mind,  in  which  things  are  not  as 
they  seem.  (4)  Most  of  us  are  tempted  by  con- 
sistency, and  enjoy  system-building  for  its  own  sake 
apart  from  truth.  But  ''nothing  falsifies  history 
more  than  logic,"  and  when  the  facts  do  not  tally 
with  our  systems  of  things  as  they  ought  to  do,  we 
are  apt  to  cry  in  our  folly.  So  much  the  worse  for 
the  facts. 

So  we  build  up  and  dwell  in  that  cloud-castle  of 
opinions  which  we  call  our  thoughts.  It  lasts  until 
some  specially  powerful  fact,  like  this  of  leprosy, 
comes  against  it.  Then  all  our  calculations  are 
upset.  Thought  falls  back  in  ruins  before  the  im- 
pact of  something  it  cannot  explain,  and  further 
thinking  "  can  only  serve  to  measure  the  helpless- 
ness of  thought  ".  There  is  a  great  verse  in  Psalm 
cxix.  113,  wrongly  translated  in  our  version,  upon 
whose  real  meaning  and  mood  we  are  prone  to 
fall  back  in  such  an  hour — ''  I  hate  thoughts  ". 


OPINION  AND  KNOWLEDGE  195 

Our  knowledge  is  a  very  different  matter.  There 
is,  or  may  be,  such  a  thing  as  our  knowledge. 
There  is  much  that  can  be  actually  and  certainly 
known  in  religion,  and  our  minds  are  capable  of 
receiving  and  resting  in  it.  In  connexion  with  the 
faith  we  hold,  there  are  many  opinions  which  may 
or  may  not  be  true,  but  it  is  not  all  like  that. 
There  are  men  and  women,  not  differing  in  appear- 
ance from  their  fellows,  who  yet  carry  with  them, 
about  these  familiar  streets  and  houses,  the  in- 
disputable knowledge  of  some  of  the  most  profound 
and  far-reaching  secrets  of  the  universe.  This 
knowledge  is  given  by  experience,  and  is  ''  subject 
to  no  dispute  ".  It  is  futile  to  seek  to  discover  the 
secrets  of  the  furthest  heavens  with  your  field- 
glass  of  opinions  ;  but  what  if  some  great  star  were 
to  swim  into  sight,  and  discover  itself  to  you? 
So  many  have  found  it  to  be.  While  they  were 
speculating  among  the  doctrines,  and  discussing  the 
high-sounding  questions  that  it  is  fashionable  to 
ask  regarding  God  and  man,  God  Himself  came  to 
them  in  their  hour  of  need,  and  they  knew  His 
coming  and  were  saved.  Before  that  memorable 
experience  a  thousand  preconceived  opinions  flee 
away,  and  from  the  pride  of  thought  men  come  to 
the  humility  of  knowledge. 

This  is  no  disparagement  of  reason,  no  attack  on 
reasoning  and  speculation.  It  is  rather  a  defence 
of  it,  for  the  danger  lies  not  in  thinking,  but  in 


196  OPINION  AND  KNOWLEDGE 

mismanaging  the  work  of  thinking.  It  is  a  danger- 
ous game,  this  play  of  opinions,  and  it  may  cost 
a  man  very  dear.  Had  Naaman  adequately  and 
dispassionately  thought  out  the  situation,  he  would 
have  arrived  at  precisely  the  same  knowledge  which 
experience  taught  him.  But  few  men  ever  do  thus 
adequately  deal  with  thought.  Their  opinions  rise, 
as  we  have  seen,  from  a  wrong  basis  and  upon 
wrong  principles. 

But  let  a  man  deal  honestly  with  God  and  life, 
laying  his  soul  quite  open  to  whatever  power  and 
love  there  be  for  him  in  God.  Then,  as  the  mighty 
hands  reach  down  for  you,  draw  you  up  out  of  deep 
waters,  set  you  on  a  rock  of  firm  conviction  gained 
not  by  speculation  but  by  experience — then  you 
will  hnoiv.  Your  opinions  about  God  matter  little — 
your  thoughts  about  religion,  your  arranged  pro- 
gramme, your  predetermined  claim.  Much  of  all 
that  will  have  to  be  discarded,  all  of  it  will  have  to 
be  revised,  and  thought  will  more  frequently  dis- 
cover God  by  its  failure  than  by  its  success.  But 
bring  your  leprosy  to  God,  and  let  us  see  Him  heal 
it.  Bring  your  shame  and  not  your  greatness ; 
your  bewilderment  and  not  your  fashionable 
opinions ;  your  confessed  folly  and  not  your  par- 
aded cleverness.  Then  need  will  find  Him  where 
self-sufficiency  must  always  fail.  One  touch  of 
healing — a  manhood   cleansed  and   wholesome  in 


OPINION  AND  KNOWLEDGE  197 

heart  and  imagination — sin  forgiven,  morbidness 
gone,  freshness  and  freedom  and  power  returned ! 
Behold  you  thought  this  and  that  and  the  other 
clever  and  ingenious  thing.  Behold  now  you  know 
that  your  Redeemer  liveth. 


THE  CHARACTER  OF  GEHAZI 

2  Kings  v.  15-27. 

In  the  group  of  stories  which  make  up  the  Scripture 
narrative  of  Elisha  there  is  much  that  is  perplexing 
both  to  the  historical  and  to  the  moral  sense.  But 
whatever  conclusion  we  arrive  at  as  to  the  admix- 
ture of  historic  and  legendary  in  the  story,  one 
thing  is  certain.  Through  the  mist  of  years  there 
looms  out  upon  us  a  live  man  and  a  set  of  typical 
and  eternal  human  truths.  No  one  ever  invented 
Elisha.  He  stands  clear  in  his  own  right,  as  indis- 
putable and  strongly  marked  a  character  as  ever 
walked  the  earth.  It  will  be  well  for  us  to  listen 
to  the  story  as  it  is  told,  that  we  may  discover 
those  permanent  revelations  of  human  life  and 
character  in  which  it  is  so  rich. 

This  is  a  tale  of  three  men,  seen  against  a  back- 
ground of  sweet  women  and  children.  The  three 
represent  two  extremes  and  Naaman  between  them, 
a  wonderfully  interesting  and  suggestive  man.  To- 
day we  shall  consider  especially  the  character  of 
Gehazi,  the   extreme  and  almost  unrelieved  type 

(198) 


THE  CHAEACTEE  OF  GEHAZI  199 

of  the  wicked  man.  But  first  let  us  look  for  a  little 
at  the  opposite  extreme,  which  throws  him  into  so 
strong  a  light  of  contrast. 

Elisha. — There  are,  indeed,  two  sides  to  this 
extraordinary  figure.  His  lifelong  kindness  to  all 
sons  of  the  prophets,  and  the  stories  of  the  poor 
women  of  Zarepta  and  of  Shunem,  reveal  a  great 
tenderness  beneath  his  shaggy  simplicity.  Yet  his 
usual  aspect  is  that  of  unrelenting  sternness.  Some 
of  the  tales  show  the  harshness  of  a  pitiless  cruelty, 
and  about  many  of  the  rest  there  broods  an  un- 
canny sense  of  occult  and  unkindly  power. 

In  this  story  he  appears  in  a  peculiarly  distant 
and  formal  aspect.  He  heals,  but  without  so  much 
as  looking  at  the  sick  man.  He  stands  utterly 
apart,  and  repulses  all  attempts  at  familiarity.  He 
refuses  the  gifts  of  the  grateful  Naaman,  and  has 
no  word  of  guidance  for  him  in  his  spiritual  per- 
plexities. The  whole  narrative  is  in  the  most  violent 
contrast  with  the  wealth  and  tenderness  of  sym- 
pathy for  human  suffering  in  which  Isaiah  abounds, 
and  in  still  stronger  contrast  with  the  way  of  Him 
who  ''Himself  took  our  sicknesses".  It  is  Jordan 
and  not  Elisha  that  takes  His  sickness  away  from 
Naaman.  Nothing  could  be  less  sympathetic  or 
less  kindly  than  this  cold,  immaculate,  and  patron- 
izing deed.  With  Naaman,  at  least,  ''  never  dares 
the  man  put  off  the  prophet ".  Austere,  faultless, 
and  aloof,   he   plays   his  impersonal   part   in   the 


200     THE  CHAEACTEK  OF  GEHAZI 

destinies  of  nations  and  the  lives  of  men,  white  and 
cold  as  snow,  a  bloodless  statue  of  righteousness. 

And  all  this  time  a  man  is  going  to  perdition  at 
his  side.  True,  he  is  a  very  inferior  man,  the  poor- 
est of  poor  characters  perhaps — yet  a  man,  and 
going  swiftly  to  ruin.  Gehazi  is  shrewd  and  useful, 
a  fellow  of  ready  wit,  who  can  upon  occasions  show 
remarkable  practical  sense.  He  cannot  have  been 
all  bad  and  always  bad.  He  is  evidently  a  rather 
commonplace  type  of  sinner,  who  could  understand 
his  master's  power  and  rough  strength,  but  not  any 
finer  or  more  spiritual  qualities.  He  is  self-im- 
portant and  more  or  less  vain,  and  beneath  these 
surface  characteristics  there  is  a  strain  of  covet- 
ousness,  developing  into  a  besetting  sin. 

And  ever,  at  his  side,  there  was  this  uncompromis- 
ing whiteness,  this  unbending  and  unintelligible 
goodness.  He  was  one  of  those  who  would  have 
needed  nursing  into  decent  character.  He  had  not 
good  taste  enough  to  see  how  bad  the  things  were 
that  he  did.  No  doubt  every  man  is  responsible  for 
himself  to  his  Maker,  and  yet  something  might  have 
been  made  of  such  a  m.an  by  a  little  human  sym- 
pathy. He  was  so  weak,  beside  one  so  strong,  and 
in  part  at  least  his  ruin  was  Elisha's  fault.  To 
watch  a  commonplace  man  degenerate  into  a  crimi- 
nal and  then  to  curse  him,  is  hardly  the  whole  of 
any  righteous  man's  duty.  The  voluble  abuse  of 
verse  26  is  all  very  well.     But  as  we  see  the  poor 


THE  CHABACTEE  OF  GEHAZI  201 

creature  shrinking  under  its  lashes  in  fear  and 
astonishment,  we  cannot  but  ask  whether  that  was 
all  that  could  have  been  done.  Purity  is  good,  but 
it  is  not  enough.  Purity  should  be  pitiful  as  well 
as  pure.  Otherwise  its  very  whiteness  may  drive  a 
man  beside  it  to  his  doom.  There  is  a  righteous- 
ness that  saves,  and  the  righteousness  that  saves  is 
that  which  is  mingled  with  compassion. 

Gehazi.—T\i\^  is  that  figure  of  unrelieved  black 
which  contrasts  with  every  decent  character  in  the 
whole  tale.  We  know  Httle  of  him,  and  it  is  easy 
to  say  too  much.  Yet  this  seems  clear,  that  his  is 
the  tragedy  of  a  man  ruined  by  familiarity  with 
sacred  things. 

The  story  puts  in  the  forefront  the  crime  of 
covetousness.  There  is  an  immense  quantity  of 
silver,  and  ten  holiday  suits,  presumably  such  silken 
garments  as  are  still  seen  flashing  their  many 
coloured  brilliance  in  the  streets  of  Damascus.  If 
the  prophet  has  no  use  for  such  things,  his  vain 
servant  has.  The  refusal  is  incredible;  all  the 
oracles  of  the  nations  expected  gifts.  The  man's 
commercial  instincts  are  in  despair  at  such  unheard 
of  waste  of  chances.  He  loses  his  head  altogether, 
and  pleads  the  coming  of  two  poor  students  as  a 
sudden  necessity  for  two  of  those  incongruous  robes 
of  silk,  and  silver  to  the  value  of  some  £400 
sterling. 

It  was  of  course  the  most  transparent  sort  of  lie, 


202     THE  CHAEACTER  OF  GEHAZI 

explainable  only  by  the  veriest  infatuation  of  greed. 
With  more  forcible  reason  than  the  oriental's  love 
of  buried  treasure,  he  hurries  his  spoil  off  to  a 
strong  and  secret  hiding  place  known  as  the  Tower 
on  the  Hill.  Lie  after  lie  comes  to  cover  his  fault 
in  the  swift  chase  of  retribution,  until  the  abject 
soul  of  him  is  like  a  hunted  thing,  fleeing  before 
that  terrible  spirit  that  has  outwitted  his  cunning 
as  Prospero  outwits  Caliban  in  the  play.  Then  come 
the  dreadful  words  of  doom  that  turn  him  to  a  liv- 
ing sarcasm,  the  white  leprosy  covering  the  black 
falsehood  of  the  heart :  and  he  crawls  back  to  that 
Tower  to  look  upon  his  silk  and  his  silver,  and  to  gaze 
desperately  down  the  tainted  line  of  his  posterity. 

The  obvious  immediate  lesson  is  concerning  covet- 
ousness.  There  is  a  limit  to  the  honourable  pos- 
sibilities of  making  money,  and  when  that  limit  is 
crossed,  wealth  is  but  leprosy  that  goes  on  through 
the  inheriting  generations,  until  a  man's  children's 
children  may  cry  for  clean  poverty  again,  rather 
than  this  plague. 

Such  was  his  besetting  sin.  But  a  careful  read- 
ing of  his  whole  record  will  show  that  it  lay  in  a 
character  otherwise  of  little  worth.  His  loquacious 
vanity  is  everywhere  evident.  His  self-importance 
gives  the  impression  of  a  proprietory  right  in  his 
famous  master.  His  hardness  and  want  of  com- 
passion render  him  something  of  the  bully  in 
stories  like  that  of  the  Shunammite.     Such  poor 


THE  CHAKACTEE  OF  GEHAZI  203 

vices   exhibit   a  low    strain   of    character,    in   the 
depths  of  which  his  dominant  vice  of  greed  flows 
on  and  gathers  volume.     At  the  moment  of  this 
incident,  the  tragedy  of  degeneration  is  complete. 
Granting  that  his  nature   has  never  been  one  of 
any  sensitiveness  or  refinement,  yet  it  is  evident 
that  it  has  reached  a  quite  phenomenal  bluntness 
now.     Even  as  a  mere  matter  of  politics,  when  the 
diplomatic  relations  of  Syria  and  Israel  hung  on  a 
hair-trigger  as  they  did  then,  such  an  action  was 
sheer  madness.     For  so  shrewd  a  man,  nothing  but 
the  blindness  of  a  master  passion  could   explain 
so  manifest  a  blunder.     Still  more  striking  is  the 
spiritual  dullness  of  perception.     He  has  the  honour 
of  the  prophet  of  the  living  God  in  his  hands,  but 
that  is  swept  by  the  board.     He  has  just  seen  the 
most  wonderful  thing  in  all  the  world,  the  dawn  of 
faith   in  a  human  soul  ;   but  the  only  impression 
which  that  has  left  with  him  is  the  fancied  vision 
of  himself  clad  in  coloured  silk.     Neither  the  sneers 
of  Damascus  at  Elisha,  nor  the  effect  on  Naaman's 
new-born  faith,  are   remembered.     These  Damas- 
cenes had  seen  and  wondered  at  a  nobler  man  than 
they  had  known,  a  man  uninfluenced  by  all  that 
men  most  prize.     This  had  dragged  him  down,  and 
stolen  from  them  their  one  ideal.     Damascus  made 
no  such  fine  pretences,  yet  it  would  hardly  stoop 
to  meanness  such  as  this  ;  and,  after  all,  honour  is 
better  than  spirituality ! 


204  THE  CHAEACTEK  OF  GEHAZI 

Such  is  the  "devastatmg  power  of  an  idolatry" 
to  quench  one  by  one  the  lights  of  the  soul. 
The  degenerate  darkened  spirit  of  the  passion- 
driven  is  infinitely  dangerous.  He  has  no  pity  on 
the  souls  of  men,  no  loyalty  to  their  good  name. 
And  so  we  see  this  victim  of  his  own  evil  nature, 
become  the  blow-fly  settling  on  one  of  the  finest 
stories  in  literature  ;  the  ape  in  the  sanctuary,  who 

Swings  by  his  irreverent  tail 
All  over  the  most  holy  place. 

How,  then,  has  this  tragedy  come  to  pass  ?  For 
evidently  the  last  barriers  are  down,  and  there  is  no 
restraint  of  reverence  or  awe,  but  only  the  easy 
stride  of  self-sufficiency,  swinging  along  among  the 
most  tremendous  mysteries,  and  a  base  passion  let 
loose  without  restraint. 

Every  one  knows  the  answer  of  the  man  on  the 
street,  then  and  now.  "  Oh,"  he  would  laugh,  "  the 
nearer  the  church  the  farther  from  grace."  And  in 
that  answer  there  is  a  very  terrible  and  searching 
truth.  All  contact  with  holy  things  is  inevitably 
of  the  nature  of  a  crisis  :  familiarity  with  them  is 
dangerous  and  exacting.  It  is  the  old  danger  of 
touching  the  ark  of  God ;  it  is  the  danger  which 
Meredith  sees  still  when  he  sings  : — 

Enter  these  enchanted  woods,  ye  who  dare. 
When  the  first  touch  of  awe  is  on  the  man,  let  him 
take  a  thorough  dealing  with  his  soul,  for  if  he  sur- 
render it  not  then  to  God  he  will  surely  mortgage 


THE  CHAEACTEK  OF  GEHAZI  205 

it  to  the  devil.  All  the  supreme  experiences  of  life 
have  this  quality  of  crisis.  At  every  point  v^here  a 
man  feels  himself  brought  face  to  face  v^ith  any 
high  trust  or  responsibility,  with  any  deep  sorrow 
or  affection,  above  all  when  Jesus  Christ  confronts 
a  man,  and  he  has  to  say  Yea  or  Nay  to  the  great 
question  of  his  life,  there  has  come  for  him  the 
awful  hour  of  fate.  Let  him  pass  through  such 
a  moment  slightly,  and  the  sequel  is  sure.  He 
will  become  accustomed  to  the  most  awful  and 
exalted  thoughts,  and  then  he  will  despise  them. 
His  will  be  but  the  scene-shifter's  view  of  the  play, 
looking  down  on  the  backs  of  the  actors,  and  seeing 
nothing  to  thrill  his  spirit.  Doubtless  prophets  are 
but  men,  and  there  are  many  things  in  the  best  of 
them  to  criticize.  Doubtless  all  supreme  experi- 
ences, of  responsibility  or  sorrow  or  love,  have  some 
earthly  elements  in  them  easy  to  disparage.  But 
the  God  whom  the  prophets  serve  and  represent, 
however  faultily,  is  a  consuming  fire. 

We  are  face  to  face  with  a  very  terrible  fact  here. 
All  ministers  especially,  and  all  who  engage  in  work 
about  religion  and  its  ordinances,  must  surely  stand 
in  awe  of  the  dangers  of  familiarity.  Yet  this  is  a 
danger  also  for  all  who  habitually  hear  or  read  or 
think  of  holy  things,  or  handle  them  in  the  Sacra- 
ments. If  faith  be  shallow  and  love  half-hearted, 
if  the  wonder  of  this  approach  be  not  day  by  day 
renewed,  and  all  rival  passions  that  war  against  the 


206     THE  CHAEACTEE  OF  GEHAZI 

soul  suppressed,  then  will  come  the  sure  vengeance 
of  sacred  things  profaned,  and  familiarity  will  sink 
into  contempt.  But  familiarity  needs  not  thus  to 
sink.  If  the  soul's  surrender  be  complete,  the 
wonder  will  not  only  last  but  will  increase,  and 
each  day  of  sacred  service  will  break  with  the 
freshness  of  a  new  revelation.  For  the  treasures 
of  faith  are  inexhaustible,  and  the  returns  of  God 
to  the  faithful  are  fresh  as  the  dew  of  each  new 
morning. 


GOD'S  COMPROMISE  WITH  MAN 

"  Two  mules'  burden  of  earth." — 2  Kings  v.  17. 

The  figure  of  Naaman  is  set  in  strong  contrast  with 
those  of  Elisha  and  Gehazi.  These  two  are  extreme 
types  of  austerity  and  sordidness.  They  move 
within  the  narrow  lines  of  their  Hmitations,  uncom- 
promising and  therefore  simple.  Naaman  stands 
apart,  courtier  and  man  of  the  world,  in  touch  and 
sympathy  with  the  breadth  of  human  life.  His  is  a 
pleasant  figure,  like  his  name  which  means  Pleas- 
antness. He  is  such  a  representative  gentleman 
of  Damascus  as  we  meet  in  the  pages  of  Tancred. 
Everything  we  read  of  him  is  attractive,  and  char- 
acteristic of  ''  a  good  fellow  and  a  dashing  ofiicer  ". 
The  frank  manner,  the  generous  heart  that  is  not 
without  its  touch  of  hot  temper,  the  ready  gratitude 
and  the  warm  friendships,  make  a  wholly  lovable 
and  delightful  sketch  of  the  man. 

It  is  for  such  men  that  questions  of  casuistry  and 
compromise  arise,  making  life  at  once  difficult  and 
fascinating.  It  was  a  comparatively  easy  matter 
for  Elisha  and  Gehazi  to  go  on  their  ways — the 
one  ''  spendidly  unhindered,"  the  other  vulgarly  un- 

(207) 


208  GOD'S  COMPEOMISE  WITH  MAN 

scrupulous.  But  Naaman  is  by  far  the  most  inter- 
esting of  the  trio.  It  is  true  that  our  ideas  of  him 
are  more  or  less  conjectural.  We  know  few  of  the 
facts  and  circumstances  of  his  life.  We  have  to 
divest  ourselves  of  many  ideas  and  associations 
before  we  can  get  back  to  where  he  stood.  Yet  it 
is  evident  that  there  are  always  some  whose  contact 
with  Jehovah  sends  them  to  the  desert,  and  others 
whom  it  sends  back  into  the  world,  and  that 
Naaman  is  in  the  latter  class.  Just  because  he 
returns  to  the  world,  we  see  him  moving  on  a  wider 
and  more  perplexing  field.  He  finds  himself  "  on 
the  dangerous  edge  of  things,"  where  he  has  to  face 
practical  questions  of  far  greater  subtlety  than  those 
which  confront  such  men  as  the  other  two.  Even 
in  the  space  of  the  short  narrative  before  us  we  find 
what  may  be  called  a  double  compromise  between 
God  and  man.  In  the  present  study  we  shall  con- 
sider the  first  of  these  compromises,  in  the  next  the 
second. 

The  request  for  two  mules'  burden  of  earth  may 
be  considered  as  God's  compromise  with  man.  It 
arose  out  of  an  idolatrous  superstition.  Among 
the  Semites  it  was  the  universal  custom  to  regard 
each  god  as  attached  to,  and  limited  by,  the  land 
where  he  was  worshipped.  Consequently  the  very 
earth  and  stones  of  that  land  were  sufficient  to  draw 
the  god  to  the  prayer  of  a  worshipper  ;  and  they 
were  necessary,  for  only  on  some  part  of  his  own 


GOD'S  COMPEOMISE  WITH  MAN  209 

land  could  he  act.  Other  earth  was  looked  after 
by  other  gods.  Thus,  among  those  tribes,  not  only 
did  the  saints,  but  the  gods  themselves  "take 
pleasure  in  her  stones,"  and  "  her  very  dust  to 
them  was  dear  ". 

It  is  easy  to  denounce  this,  as  Matthew  Henry 
does  in  his  antithetic  way — "  He  had  spoken  lightly 
of  the  waters  of  Israel,  and  now  he  overvalues  the 
earth  of  Israel ".  Yet  the  story  does  not  say  that 
the  request  was  refused,  and  we  gather  that  it  was 
conceded.  It  was  a  heathen  superstition,  and  yet 
like  other  heathen  superstitions  it  expressed  a  deep 
and  abiding  human  instinct  behind  the  error.  In 
later  times  a  Jewish  synagogue  was  raised  by  Jews 
in  Persia,  all  of  whose  stones  and  earth  had  been 
brought  from  Jerusalem.  Soil  from  the  Holy  Land 
was  brought  in  the  Middle  Ages  for  the  Campo 
Santos  of  Italy  :  and  it  is  a  very  pathetic  picture 
that  is  presented  by  those  old-fashioned  ships 
carrying  earth  across  the  seas  for  the  covering  of 
the  beloved  dead. 

The  whole  question  of  relics,  and  of  such  aids  to 
devotion  as  the  skull  or  the  crucifix,  is  raised  by 
this  ancient  practice.  Some  of  these  aids  may  be- 
come dangerous.  They  are  liable  to  abuse,  and 
may  have  to  be  discarded.  Men  may  transfer  their 
worship  from  their  God  to  the  sacred  earth,  or  even 
to  the  mules  that  carried  it,  and  so  reverence  may 

become  idolatry  of  a  very  primitive  type. 

14 


210  GOD'S  COMPKOMISE  WITH  MAN 

Yet  this  question  runs  far  deeper  than  any  dis- 
pute as  to  form  and  ceremony  between  Roman 
Catholic  and  Protestant  worshippers.  All  alike 
feel  that  the  great  trial  to  faith  and  the  supreme 
difficulty  of  worship,  lie  in  the  intangibility  of  the 
object  of  faith  and  worship.  God  and  His  spiritual 
life  are  so  withdrawn  and  so  elusive,  that  at  times 
they  seem  remote  from  our  common  life  and  inac- 
cessible. The  woman  of  Samaria  spoke  for  human- 
ity when  she  asked  her  question  as  to  where  man 
ought  to  worship.  The  answer  of  Jesus  forbade 
neither  the  mountain  nor  Jerusalem,  but  only  in- 
sisted that  worship  must  not  be  in  ignorance — we 
must  know  what  we  worship.  For  Himself,  He 
used  both  the  mountain  and  the  temple  for  His 
worship ;  and  we  may  take  it  that  for  each  intelli- 
gent worshipper  that  way  is  legitimate  and  best 
which  makes  worship  easiest  and  most  satisfying 
for  him. 

There  is  no  escape  from  this  question.  Those 
churches  and  sects  which  are  farthest  removed 
from  ritual  in  the  ordinary  sense  of  the  word,  illus- 
trate it  in  their  own  way  quite  as  clearly  as  the 
churches  against  which  they  protest.  Such  sects 
usually  begin  in  some  critical  hour,  when  the  faith 
has  come  into  bondage  of  some  sort,  and  the  mules 
are  labouring  and  heavy  laden  with  their  burdens 
of  earth.  Then  the  spirit  of  freedom  comes  upon 
men,  and  in  some  great  testimony  they  break  away 


GOD'S  COMPEOMISE  WITH  MAN  211 

and  worship  apart  from  the  old  associations.  After- 
wards circumstances  may  change,  and  the  testi- 
mony may  become  obsolete  or  unimportant,  yet  the 
sect  lives  on.  Associations  gather  round  the  places 
where  men  have  spent  their  childhood,  and  learned 
to  worship  ;  where  their  fathers  have  made  history, 
and  created  great  loyalties.  Such  a  place  becomes 
veritable  terra  santa,  holy  ground,  to  the  reverent 
spirit,  and  it  needs  a  very  powerful  conviction  of 
duty  necessitated  by  the  new  developments,  to 
bring  men  so  accustomed  to  worship  to  change  or 
break  away. 

But  the  problem  runs  still  deeper  into  the  indi- 
vidual life,  and  raises  the  whole  question  of  the 
blending  of  human  elements  with  divine  in  religion. 
Nothing  which  involves  such  strong  emotions  as 
those  produced  by  religion  can  fail  to  waken  re- 
sponsive notes  from  the  varied  and  sensitive  strings 
of  our  human  hearts.  Our  earthly  life,  with  its 
tender  loves,  and  its  poignant  regrets  and  longings, 
is  very  dear  to  us.  Inevitably  elements  of  human 
affection,  and  countless  old  memories  and  dear 
associations,  mingle  with  even  our  most  spiritual 
hours  of  worship.  There  has,  indeed,  been  a 
lamentable  and  persistent  attempt  in  all  the  Chris- 
tian centuries  to  divorce  the  two,  and  to  treat 
God's  love  and  human  love  as  rivals.  Thomas  h 
Kempis  plainly  tells  us,  ''Thou  oughtest  to  be 
so   dead   to   such   affections    of    beloved    friends, 


212  GOD'S  COMPKOMISE  WITH  MAN 

that  (so  far  as  thou  art  concerned)  thou  wouldst 
choose  to  be  without  all  human  sympathy  ".  And 
many  a  bitter  story  of  meaningless  and  uncalled- 
for  sacrifice  has  saddened  the  records  of  religious 
life.  But  the  whole  attempt  to  untwist  the 
threads  of  human  and  divine  is  a  huge  mistake. 
''  What  God  hath  joined  together,  let  not  man  put 
asunder."  Worship,  stripped  of  all  earthly  affec- 
tions, is  not  for  us.  It  is  our  part  to  take  life  as 
we  find  it,  and  worship  God  by  what  help  we  best 
can.  Surely  the  reverent  worshipper  with  his 
crucifix  is  better  than  the  superior  person  who  has 
got  rid  of  all  such  superstitions  only  to  stand  dumb 
before  the  shrine,  with  all  power  of  worship  dead  in 
him.  Still  more  surely  it  is  better  for  every  man 
to  see  God  in  the  light  of  beloved  human  eyes,  than 
to  stand  alone  in  a  desolated  world,  trying  to  flog 
up  into  vitality  his  purely  spiritual  emotions. 

We  judge  from  the  story  that  this  concession 
was  made  to  the  Syrian  worshipper.  And  still  and 
for  ever  God  does  consent  to  meet  men  where  they 
are,  and  to  accept  such  worship  as  they  can  best 
bring.  It  is  good  for  all  of  us  that  it  is  so,  for  none 
of  all  our  ways  of  worship  are  in  the  least  degree 
adequate  to  express  either  our  souls  or  Him.  None 
of  our  doctrines,  none  of  our  forms  or  organiza- 
tions, are  more  than  faulty  compromises  at  the 
best,  and  yet  God  consents  to  reveal  Himself  to 
man  through  these. 


GOD'S  COMPKOMISE  ^ArETH  MAN  213 

The  Sacraments  are  a  standing  proof  of  this. 
Water  and  bread  and  wine  are  in  all  truth  far 
enough  from  being  adequate  expressions  of  re- 
generation and  atonement.  Yet  Christ  reveals 
these  greatest  truths  through  their  humble  means. 
Nay,  the  Incarnation  itself  is  the  grand  concession 
made  by  the  spirit  to  the  flesh,  in  which  God  chose 
to  reveal  His  own  infinite  love  and  grace  in  such  a 
form  that  men  might  understand  these  while  they 
saw  and  heard  and  gazed  upon  and  handled  the 
dear  body  of  Christ. 

Let  us  take  all  the  help  we  can  from  our  human 
life  and  love.  Let  us  accept  any  guidance,  how- 
ever humble,  that  leads  us  to  the  Father.  It  may 
indeed  be  expedient  in  special  circumstances  that 
even  a  man's  worship  should  deny  itself  some  help 
and  suffer  some  loss  of  vividness,  when  an  aid  to  it 
would  be  a  public  danger  or  a  stumbling-block  to 
others.  But  except  in  such  circumstances,  God 
will  not  grudge  a  worshipper  any  means  of  grace, 
so  long  as  he  worships  not  that,  but  Him. 


MAN'S  COMPROMISE  WITH  GOD 

"The  house  of  Eimmon."— 2  Kings  v.  18. 

The  House  of  Rimmon  presents  a  different  and  a 
more  complex  situation  than  the  two  mules'  burden 
of  earth.  The  phrase  has  become  the  very  synonym 
for  religious  compromise,  and  prejudices  the  case 
from  the  outset.  To  judge  the  matter  justly,  it  is 
necessary  to  get  as  clear  an  idea  as  possible  of  what 
this  worship  actually  was. 

The  city  of  Damascus  contains  to-day  but  few 
very  ancient  ruins.  It  is  in  the  life  of  the  streets 
rather  than  in  the  stones  of  temples  that  it  is  the 
oldest  city  in  the  world.  Its  great  Mosque  covers 
a  site  which  has  seen  an  amazing  succession  of 
changes  in  worship.  It  rises  upon  the  lower  walls 
and  gateways  of  the  Christian  Church  of  Theodosius. 
That  Church  in  its  turn  rose  upon  the  ruins  of 
a  Roman  temple,  of  which  only  one  facade  now 
stands,  grey  and  weather-beaten  amid  the  newer 
building.  In  all  probability  that  Roman  temple 
rose  upon  the  site  of  the  far  more  ancient  worship 
of  the  local  Baal,  the  Rimmon  of  this  text. 

It  may  well    be    that   these    successive  archi- 

(214) 


MAN'S  COMPKOMISE  WITH  GOD  215 

lectures  are  typical  of  the  easy  changes  of  faith  in 
a  city  whose  heart  has  always  been  commercial 
rather  than  religious.  It  is  probable  that  even  in 
ancient  times  only  the  ignorant  would  take  seriously 
the  stories  of  the  gods,  while  the  educated  and 
cultured  would  be  sceptical  In  any  case  we  know 
that  the  religion  of  the  Semites  was  a  religion  not 
of  creed  but  of  ritual,  and  that  to  an  extent  which 
our  Western  minds  find  it  all  but  impossible  to 
realize.  Ceremonial  performance  was  the  one 
essential  feature ;  its  meaning  was  of  literally  no 
importance  whatever.  Worshippers  made  no  at- 
tempt to  speculate  as  to  why  they  did  this  or  that, 
or  as  to  what  facts  lay  behind  the  performance. 

If,  however,  we  insist  on  pushing  the  inquiry 
back,  and  asking  what  general  ideas  lay  behind  the 
rites,  we  shall  find  in  the  main  two  sets  of  such 
ideas  : — 

1.  The  World  and  Nature. — Rimmon  was  one  of 
the  many  Baals,  and  Baal  in  general  was  the  apo- 
theosis of  the  fructifying  powers  of  nature.  In 
later  times  the  cult  was  connected  with  that  of 
Adonis,  the  story  of  the  year,  the  summer  triumph 
and  the  winter  death  of  the  sun.  The  Baals  were 
lords  of  the  wind  and  weather,  the  rain  and  sun- 
shine, the  air  and  clouds,  the  thunder  and  storm. 
Especially  was  Baal  the  sun  god,  source  of  the 
abundance  of  light  and  heat,  that  led  the  seeds  to 
ripeness  in  the  fertile  earth.     The  name  Himmon, 


216  MAN'S  COMPEOMISE  WITH  GOD 

signifying  the  pomegranate,  has  the  suggestion  of 
all  this  in  its  luscious  fullness,  and  is  peculiarly 
appropriate  for  the  divinity  that  presided  over  the 
sweet  and  rich  life  of  Damascus.  So  this  "  prince 
of  the  power  of  the  air  "  stood  for  nature  and  the 
life  of  the  earth.  The  cult  was  not  so  much  a  wor- 
ship, as  an  appreciation  of  the  world  in  all  its  full- 
ness. God,  to  the  Damascus  worshipper,  was  ''  the 
view  " — He  was  anything  a  man  liked. 

2.  Nationality  and  patriotism. — Rimmon  was  the 
particular  Baal  of  Damascus,  and  the  ritual  had 
a  large  element  of  politics  in  it.  Worship  was 
not  a  matter  of  private  faith  any  more  than  it 
was  a  matter  of  spiritual  communion.  It  was 
essentially  a  civic  and  national  act.  The  gods 
were  representative  members  of  the  nation,  and 
their  worship  was  official  and  political  in  its  signi- 
ficance, involving  before  all  else  loyalty  to  the  throne 
and  customs  of  the  land. 

Taking  these  two  sets  of  ideas  together,  we  are 
better  able  to  understand  Naaman's  position.  Here, 
in  the  house  of  Rimmon,  was  the  world  in  two  as- 
pects. (1)  The  green  earth,  the  joy  of  life,  its 
sensuous  beauty  and  fullness.  (2)  The  national 
loyalty,  the  public  office  and  service  of  a  courtier. 
So  the  question  that  faced  him  was,  whether  he 
would  retire  from  the  world  into  asceticism  and 
private  life,  or  whether  he  would  remain  in  the 
world  and  serve  Jehovah.    He  no  longer  worshipped 


MAN'S  COMPEOMISE  WITH  GOD  217 

the  world,  for  he  had  looked  beyond  it  and  seen  the 
face  of  God.  But  he  still  appreciated  its  charm, 
and  he  still  enjoyed  its  labours.  He  chose  the  latter 
course.  As  to  the  detail  of  ritual,  we  can  imagine 
him  saying  to  himself  that  a  God  so  great  in  heal- 
ing would  be  great  also  in  understanding,  so  that 
the  act  of  compromise  was  in  one  way  an  act  of 
faith. 

Thus  the  story  leads  us  up  to  the  general  question 
of  compromise.  Obviously  there  are  all  sorts  of 
compromises,  good  and  bad  ;  and  the  more  complex 
society  becomes  the  more  frequently  such  problems 
arise.  Three  tests  may  be  given,  by  which  the 
legitimacy  of  compromise  may  be  judged  : — 

1.  Playing  two  games — the  compromise  which 
involves  self-deception.  The  change  from  one 
religion  to  another  has  often  been  marked  by  a 
lingering  faith  in  the  older  gods  continuing  to  exist 
alongside  the  new  faith.  It  is  thus  that  some 
scholars  explain  the  mouse  of  Apollo,  the  owl  of 
Minerva,  and  other  such  relics.  The  new  and  more 
splendid  company  of  divinities  had  supplanted  the 
old  totem  worship  of  mice  and  owls  :  but  after  all 
there  might  have  been  something  in  that  lowly 
worship,  and  it  would  be  as  well  not  to  neglect  it 
altogether.  But  here  we  have  a  different  case. 
There  is  no  lingering  belief  or  suspicion  of  belief  in 
Eimmon.  Probably  there  had  been  little  intelligent 
or  confident  faith  to  begin  with,  and  now  there  was 


218  MAN'S  COMPKOMISE  WITH  GOD 

none  at  all.  The  new  God  had  swept  clean  away 
all  remnants  of  the  obsolete  Baal. 

Such  compromise  as  this  double  devotion  is  some- 
times seen,  and  it  is  always  absolutely  wrong.  Some 
professing  Christians  are  not  quite  certain  in  their 
hearts  that  their  Christian  faith  is  true,  and  they 
never  let  go  their  hold  on  Mammon  though  they 
adopt  the  faith  of  Christ.  There  is  an  unexpressed 
caution  about  such  people,  which  assures  them 
that  they  will  be  making  the  best  of  things  in  any 
case.  It  is  the  danger  of  Pascal's  argument  that 
faith  will  pay  best  in  the  end  whether  it  prove  true 
or  false,  and  in  mean  souls  this  becomes  the  incen- 
tive to  a  double  life.  But  God  will  have  no  such 
divided  allegiance.  His  worshippers  must  let  go 
all  their  second  strings,  and  swing  themselves 
boldly  out  on  the  great  venture  of  faith.  Let  it  be 
the  finding  of  God  or  the  loss  of  all  things — there 
is  no  room  for  compromise. 

2.  Pretence — the  compromise  which  is  intended 
to  deceive  others.  Naaman  had  settled  that  by  his 
two  mules'  burden  of  earth.  It  would  be  impossible 
to  conceal  such  an  act,  nor  would  his  frank  nature 
wish  to  leave  anyone  in  doubt  as  to  his  religious 
position.  The  attendance  at  the  House  of  Rimmon 
would  deceive  no  one.  All  Damascus  knew  what 
God  Naaman  worshipped. 

Obviously  no  compromise  is  tolerable  which  is 
adopted  with  a  view  to  deceive  men,     There  is  in- 


MAN'S  COMPEOMISE  WITH  GOD  219 

deed  a  limit  to  the  amount  of  consideration  which 
must  be  given  to  possible  misunderstandings.  If 
the  construction  which  every  fool  or  weakling  may 
put  upon  our  conduct  is  to  be  taken  into  considera- 
tion at  every  turn,  then  the  fool  and  the  weak  brother 
have  become  tyrants  over  the  lives  of  better  men 
than  themselves,  a  tyranny  which  no  self-respecting 
man  will  endure.  With  much  of  our  lives,  our 
neighbours  have  no  business  whatsoever,  and  it 
need  give  us  little  concern  if  interfering  outsiders 
misconstrue  our  actions.  It  is  certainly  never 
worth  a  compromise  with  honesty  to  save  our  re- 
putation. Either  let  men  misjudge  you  as  they 
please,  if  the  end  to  be  gained  is  worth  that  cost ; 
or  if  you  value  their  good  opinion,  earn  it  honestly 
by  denying  yourself  what  they  will  misunder- 
stand. 

3.  Deliberate  Sacrifice  of  Right  to  Wrong. — Men's 
attempt  to  deceive  God.  When  a  sin,  acknow- 
ledged to  be  such,  is  yet  allowed  on  some  specious 
plea  of  doing  evil  that  good  may  come ;  when 
pleasure  is  taken  at  the  cost  of  what  seems  but  a 
slight  wound  to  conscience,  or  gain  at  the  cost  of  a 
slight  sacrifice  of  principle ;  we  have  come  upon 
very  dangerous  ground.  Life  is  far  too  complex  for 
our  meddling  with  its  moralities,  and  neither  any 
pleasure  nor  any  gain  is  worth  the  risk  of  nature's 
subtle  and  surprising  vengeance.  Nothing  more 
surely  brings  on  degeneration  than  such  tampering 


220  MAN'S  COMPKOMISE  WITH  GOD 

with  ethics  and  living  deliberately  below  one's  best 
lights.  Those  who  do  so  come  to  have  the  very 
hall-mark  of  the  unsatisfied  and  the  ineffective 
upon  them,  and  are  rejected  both  by  God  and 
Satan.  No  !  we  are  not  the  captain  of  this  ship : 
let  us  steer  by  the  course  that  has  been  set. 

To  return  to  the  story,  Naaman  does  not  appear 
to  have  fallen  under  the  condemnation  of  any  such 
unworthy  compromises  as  these.  On  the  contrary, 
he  appears  as  a  very  memorable  gentleman,  taking 
a  man's  risks  and  responsibilities  in  a  very  difficult 
situation ;  trying  to  do  right,  and  on  the  whole  suc- 
ceeding. No  one  can  think  of  him  without  recall- 
ing Tom  Brown's  judgment,  ''I  can't  stand  that 
fellow  Naaman,  after  what  he'd  seen  and  felt,  going 
back  and  bowing  himself  down  in  the  House  of 
Rimmon.  ...  I  wonder  Elisha  took  the  trouble  to 
heal  him."  Who  does  not  honour  the  boy  and 
thank  God  for  him  ?  And  yet  the  matter  is  not 
so  easy  as  that,  and  when  Tom  comes  to  face  a 
man's  difficulties  he  will  find  that  the  short  cut  is 
not  always  the  true  solution,  but  may  sometimes 
be  only  a  refusal  to  face  all  the  facts.  There  are 
illegitimate  compromises  as  we  have  seen,  but  there 
are  also  wise  and  good  ones,  which  may  save  con- 
science from  growing  pedantic,  and  lives  which 
might  have  accomplished  something  from  being 
wasted  over  trifles  not  worthy  of  them.  They  may 
save  men  also  from  the  inordinate  vanity  of  those 


MAN'S  COMPROMISE^^WITH  GOD  221 

who  imagine  that  to  shout  "  No  compromise  "  is  to 
secure  a  monopoly  of  honesty  and  courage. 

For  indeed  life  is  by  no  means  as  easy  as  some 
energetic  people  imagine.  Those  whose  lot  it  is  to 
live  in  the  world  must  sometimes  find  themselves 
in  complicated  and  delicate  situations  in  which 
every  course  seems  open  to  objections.  We  all 
have  our  sets  of  rules  for  guidance,  rules  which  are 
safe  enough  for  little  and  ordinary  things  ;  but 
some  new  situation  arises  to  which  these  rules  are 
inadequate,  and  which  seems  to  call  for  their  revisal. 
Altogether,  this  is  a  supremely  difficult  world  to 
live  in,  in  which  there  is  much  that  we  all  disap- 
prove of,  and  more  that  we  dislike. 

It  is  largely  a  question  of  proportion  in  our  judg- 
ment between  great  and  small  issues,  and  the  snare 
of  the  unimportant  may  keep  a  man  throughout  a 
lifetime  dabbling  among  trivialities.  The  great 
point  is  to  begin,  not  among  the  trifling  details  of 
the  fringe,  but  at  the  centre.  Settle  the  main  issues 
and  live  for  these — to  do  the  will  of  God,  and  to 
make  the  most  of  your  life  and  powers.  Plan 
your  life  on  a  sufficiently  large  scale,  and  with  a 
clear  sight  of  the  commanding  objects  for  which 
you  are  to  live.  As  to  the  detail,  it  is  best  left  to 
settle  itself.  On  the  dangerous  edge  of  things,  in 
the  finesse  of  the  game  of  life,  there  is  much  that 
will  baffle  the  shrewdest  mind  and  the  most  anxious 
conscience.     Do  not  try  to  play  that  game  of  life 


222  MAN'S  COMPEOMISE  WITH  GOD 

as  if  you  were  God,  but  take  the  man's  way.  Ac- 
cept the  risks,  and  be  sure  that  you  will  often 
make  mistakes  in  detail.  Only  let  your  eye  be 
fixed  steadily  on  the  Master. 

To  those  who  will  dare  to  take  and  abide  by  this 
way,  strange  guidance  comes.  They  gain  a  know- 
ledge, or  rather  a  hardly-conscious  instinct,  as  to 
how  they  ought  to  act.  With  practice  and  obedience 
this  instinctive  knowledge  grows  surer  and  more 
clear.  They  grow  extraordinarily  sagacious.  They 
cannot  give  their  reasons,  but  they  do  not  make 
mistakes.  Such  sagacity  cannot  possibly  be  ac- 
quired by  attention  to  detail.  It  is  the  result  of  a 
life  habitually  turned  towards  the  thought  of  God, 
and  the  larger  aims  and  purposes.  In  such  lives 
is  fulfilled  the  great  promise,  ^'I  will  guide  thee 
with  mine  eye  ". 


THE  OPEN-AIR  TREATMENT  OF  SOULS 

"I  will  lift  up  mine  eyes  unto  the  hills." — Psalm  cxxi.  1. 

Much  has  been  heard  of  late  of  the  healing  qual- 
ities of  the  open  air,  and  medical  science  has  en- 
tered into  a  new  alliance  with  nature.  Discarding 
or  at  least  laying  smaller  stress  on  the  more  com- 
plicated methods  of  the  past,  the  secret  of  the 
new  surgery  is  cleanness,  that  of  the  new  medicine 
fresh  air.  The  principle  has  been  extended  to 
Sociology,  and  in  many  directions  reformers  are 
seeking  an  escape  from  the  overcrowded  city  life, 
and  an  open-air  treatment  for  social  evils  and 
miseries. 

Why  should  we  not  go  one  step  farther,  and 
institute  an  open-air  treatment  of  souls  ?  The  con- 
ditions are  closely  parallel.  Unnaturalness  is  the 
greatest  evil  in  religious  life,  as  it  is  in  life  social 
and  physical.  Almost  all  the  dangers  and  enemies 
of  the  human  race  are  bred  in  over-crowded,  narrow 
and  pestilential  conditions  of  houses,  society,  or 
religious  thought.  Thus  all  the  three  fields  are 
one.     In  this  crusade,  physician,  social  worker,  and 

the  Church  join  forces.    They  aim  at  the  same  ends 

(223) 


224     THE  OPEN-AIK  TKEATMENT  OF  SOULS 

and  follow  the  same  methods.  Together  they  are 
bringing  forth  the  captives  out  of  the  prison-house, 
back  to  nature  and  God's  fresh  air. 

Here  we  must  avoid  the  mistakes  frequently 
made  by  poets  who  have  sought  to  personify  nature 
and  find  in  it  a  response  to  the  varying  moods  of 
human  life,  and  by  theologians  who  have  found  in 
it  an  analogy  of  the  ways  of  God.  Nature  is  not 
like  God.  Her  laws  disclose  no  moral  standards. 
When  these  are  introduced  she  appears  full  not 
only  of  contradictions  but  of  cruelties,  and  the  God 
whose  character  we  could  induce  from  a  considera- 
tion of  the  laws  of  nature  would  be  as  immoral  as 
the  pagan  divinities.  We  need  something  nearer, 
more  human  and  considerate,  a  God  who  can 
understand  and  suffer  and  love.  Indeed  we  are 
so  far  from  the  poets  who  seek  in  nature  an  echo 
of  their  own  inner  life,  as  to  feel  that  it  is  in 
offering  us  an  escape  from  ourselves  that  nature  is 
most  helpful  to  man.  There  she  lies,  inscrutable, 
placid,  expansive  ;  now  wrapped  in  mists  and  clouds, 
now  sun-smitten  or  attacked  by  the  furious  onset  of 
the  thunderstorm.  The  craving  for  sympathy  from 
her  is  morbid  :  we  must  find  health  in  her  unre- 
sponsiveness, her  healing  want  of  sympathy  with 
morbid  souls. 

Nature  is  neither  like  man  nor  God.  And  when 
we  feel  the  burden  of  our  over-civilized  life,  and 
the  cry  of  "  Back  to  nature  "  rises,  it  is  that  we  may 


THE  OPEN-AIE  TEEATMENT  OF  SOULS     225 

get  among  the  elemental,  simple  things.  The  far- 
reaching  primitive  instincts  call  us  to  break  away. 
We  "  babble  o'  green  fields  "  and  hear  the  call  of 
forests  and  moorlands.  The  mighty  hills  shout  to 
us,  the  river  woos  us  to  her  heart.  And  these 
things  are  for  an  allegory  of  that  wider  call  of 
nature,  when  we  need  above  all  things  a  touch  of 
mother  earth,  that  our  spirits  may  find  cleansing 
and  peace,  simplicity  and  expansiveness,  relaxation 
and  health. 

1.  The  most  obvious  example  of  such  wholesome 
return  to  nature  is  in  connexion  with  temptation 
and  sin.  Much  temptation  is  simply  pent-up 
strength  and  vitality,  seeking  unwholesome  outlet, 
or  the  sense  of  beauty  grown  morbid  in  close 
places,  for  the  want  of  far  horizons.  The  selfish 
pursuit  of  wealth  confines  men,  decadent  literature 
contaminates  the  air  they  breathe,  and  so  lusts  of 
all  kinds,  the  diseases  of  the  soul,  are  bred.  Then 
the  strong  man  Hfts  up  his  eyes  to  the  hills,  and 
finds  fulfilment  for  his  energy  as  a  "  climber  of  the 
rocks  ".  The  artist  lifts  up  his  eyes  to  them,  and 
in  their  colours  and  their  loftiness  finds  spiritual 
instead  of  sensuous  suggestion.  So  the  open  air 
works  its  cure,  and  among  the  wind-swept,  clean, 
cool  hills  the  fever  of  passion  ceases. 

2.  Just  as  the  return  to  nature  brings  purity  in- 
stead of  passion,  so  it  brings  peace  instead  of  worry 
and    fretfulness.      Our    life    grows   strained    and 

15 


226    THE  OPEN-AIE  TKEATMENT  OF  SOULS 

anxious.  Business  men  are  watching  the  markets, 
scientists  their  instruments  ;  students  are  poring 
over  their  books,  and  earnest  people  are  feverishly- 
struggling  to  realize  ideals.  So  there  comes  a 
weariness  of  mind,  a  discouragement  and  sense  of 
futility,  in  which  things  begin  to  look  altogether 
desperate.  We  crowd  each  other,  too,  and  the  air 
is  over-breathed.  We  grow  tired  of  the  faces  of  our 
fellow-men,  and  familiar  voices  sound  strident  to 
our  ears.  In  the  entanglement  of  society,  where 
each  is  struggling  for  himself,  love  is  lost;  while 
even  those  who  are  living  for  others  find  the  strain 
on  the  nerve  grow  tense,  till  it  is  like  to  cost  much 
loss  of  temper. 

It  is  well  known  that  for  physical  eye-strain  the 
cure  is  to  focus  the  eyes  on  a  distant  object.  Simi- 
larly for  mental  eye-strain  such  relief  may  come. 
For  nature  is  not  over-strung.  There,  on  the 
mountains,  men  move  with  elastic  step.  The  great 
sweeps  of  landscape  and  skyline  have  none  of  the 
fatiguing  preciseness  of  our  daily  life.  The  moor- 
lands are  spacious,  and  '*  over  all  the  hills  is  rest ". 
Eoom  and  loneliness  and  air — a  sane  tolerance  of 
circumstances  and  a  wide  charity  for  our  fellow- 
men — these  are  the  gifts  of  the  open  air  and  the 
hills. 

3.  No  department  of  hfe  needs  the  open  air 
more,  or  is  more  responsive  to  its  healing  power, 
ihdiYi  faith.     Our  thoughts  of  God  show  the  effects 


THE  OPEN-AIK  TEEATMENT  OF  SOULS     227 

of  closeness,  and  our  beliefs  are  apt  to  grow  un- 
natural and  strained.  The  Greeks  of  old  felt  this, 
building  their  temples  on  the  mountain-tops  as  if  to 
say  (as  Professor  Butcher  has  beautifully  expressed 
it)  to  their  Egyptian  predecessors,  ''  I  worship  in  the 
sunshine".  Indeed  as  we  read  the  history  of 
ancient  rehgions,  this  liberation  is  everywhere 
apparent.  Dark  idolatries  are  lurking  in  valleys  and 
in  caves;  earthbound  superstitions,  the  offspring 
of  an  unwholesome  fear  of  the  unknown,  people 
the  universe  with  terrors.  Then  suddenly  we  see 
white  temples  upon  hills  bathed  in  sunlight,  and 
we  know  that  it  is  the  breeze  of  God  that  is  blow- 
ing. And  in  the  Hebrew  religion,  no  one  can  for- 
get that  remarkable  succession  of  the  discoveries  of 
God,  moving  like  some  great  procession  from  Sinai 
to  Carmel,  Hattin,  Hermon,  Calvary,  Olivet. 
Which  things  also  are  for  an  allegory. 

(1)  The  gloom  of  morbid  introspection  has  fallen 
upon  faith.  As  formerly  we  found  men  crowded  and 
obsessed  by  others,  so  here  we  find  them  haunted 
by  themselves.  In  the  cloistered  life  of  self-exam- 
ination men  pore  upon  the  evils  and  horrors  of 
their  own  hearts.  But  if  the  heart  is  deceitful 
above  all  things  and  desperately  wicked,  surely  that 
only  shows  the  need  of  getting  away  from  its  evil 
neighbourhood  among  truer  and  purer  thoughts. 
What  is  needed  by  those  who  incline  to  such 
brooding  is  the  wholesome  neglect  of  themselves, 


228     THE  OPEN-AIE  TEEATMENT  OF  SOULS 

their  sins,  their  faith  and  love  and  consistency. 
Leave  all  these  alone  :  remember  God,  and  come 
out  into  the  fresh  mountain  air  of  His  love  and 
goodness. 

(2)  Another  tendency  of  morbid  religion  is  to 
occupy  itself  with  trifles  and  to  imagine  that  they 
matter.  Most  men's  religion  is  hampered  by  de- 
nominational or  ecclesiastical  principles  or  details 
of  ritual.  All  church  testimonies  and  traditions 
have  this  danger.  Beginning  often  as  liberators, 
they  end  by  becoming  an  iron  cage,  cramping  alike 
to  the  intellectual  and  the  spiritual  life.  We  sup- 
pose our  God  to  be  enlisted  on  one  side  of  such 
questions  as  against  the  other,  while  really  we  are 
but  measuring  ourselves  against  our  fellow  men, 
and  importing  our  ordinary  rivalries  and  littlenesses 
into  our  religion.  From  such  narrow  rooms,  un- 
ventilated  and  murky,  where  we  occupy  ourselves 
with  misunderstandings  of  men  instead  of  with 
worship  of  God,  our  text  calls  us  forth,  to  worship 
under  the  broad  heavens  our  common  Father. 

(3)  Similarly  the  insistence  upon  dogmatic  in- 
tricacies of  definition,  and  the  search  for  truth  by 
formulae,  have  magnified  trifles,  lost  perspective, 
and  given  an  air  of  unreality  to  faith.  Doctrines 
are  good  so  long  as  we  remember  that  the  truth 
is  greater  than  doctrines,  and  that  God  cannot  be 
defined.  Truth  is  not,  after  all,  in  a  well,  but  on  a 
mountain  top.     The  great  orthodoxy  is  the  open  air 


THE  OPEN-AIE  TEEATMENT  OF  SOULS    229 

of  the  healthy  mind,  the  clear  eye,  the  loving  heart, 
and  the  firm  will.  "Heaven  soon  sets  right  all 
other  matters." 

Doubtless  the  open  air  is  trying  to  people  who 
are  afraid  of  draughts,  and  such  thoughts  may  seem 
dangerous.  They  were,  however,  the  thoughts 
of  Jesus  Christ.  He  found  men  sitting  in  their 
close  synagogues  with  their  fears  and  customs 
and  orthodoxies,  and  he  led  them  out  to  the  hills 
where  the  birds  of  the  air  and  the  lilies  of  the  field 
told  them  of  the  Father  whose  sunshine  and  rain 
descended  upon  all.  And  so  nature  leads  us  be- 
yond herself,  and  by  returning  to  her  we  find  our 
way  to  God.  The  ancient  mystical  interpretation 
of  the  title  of  the  psalm,  "A  song  of  degrees,"  was 
"  the  steps  by  which  God  leads  the  righteous  up  to 
the  other  world  ".  So  nature  sets  up  her  ladder  of 
Bethel,  whenever  any  soul  would  rise  and  trust 
her  guidance.  Through  the  fresher  air  we  have 
caught  sight  of  the  hills  of  the  eternal  land.  The 
mountains  of  earth  shall  depart  and  the  hills  be 
removed,  but  God's  kindness  shall  not  depart. 
Nature  is  passing  away,  but  the  mercy  of  the  Lord 
is  from  everlasting  to  everlasting. 


THREE  VIEWS  OF  MAN'S  DESTINY 
1.  Pessimisiu 

"  I  wept  much,  because  no  man  was  found  worthy  to  open  and 
to  read  the  book." — Eevelation  v.  4. 

This  is  a  mysterious  passage  in  a  mysterious  book, 
but  the  fact  that  interpretation  may  easily  become 
ridiculous  should  not  debar  us  from  the  beauty  and 
the  power  of  one  of  the  greatest  and  most  pictur- 
esque of  Scriptural  poetic  images.  God  is  on  His 
throne,  but  He  is  left  undescribed,  and  we  see  only 
His  hand  holding  a  sealed  book. 

There  have  been  many  guesses  as  to  what  this 
book  represents,  some  of  them  fantastic  enough. 
In  general  it  may  be  safely  taken  to  be  the  book  of 
human  destiny,  that  long  and  secret  scroll  which 
is  slowly  unrolled  in  Scripture,  history,  politics, 
science,  and  every  other  phase  of  actual  human 
life.  The  interpretation  of  the  visions  at  the  break- 
ing of  the  seals  is  safe  for  no  detail,  but  they  afford 
glimpses  of  the  general  demands  that  time  is  sure 
to  make  on  men  and  nations  until  all  things  end 
with  the  dawn  of  the  heavenly  life. 

What  concerns  us  especially  is  the  group  of  three 

(230) 


THKEE  VIEWS  OF  MAN'S  DESTINY       231 

figures  which  represent  three  of  the  main  attitudes 
of  man  to  destiny.  There  is  the  weeping  man,  the 
pessimist,  who  sees  only  the  sadness  of  the  mystery, 
and  tends  towards  despair  and  cynicism.  Then 
there  is  the  elder  of  Judah  with  the  lion  of  his 
tribe,  the  optimist  whose  one  resource  is  that 
of  energy.  Finally  there  is  the  true  key  to 
destiny ;  the  lamb  as  it  had  been  slain,  emblem  of 
love  and  sacrifice.  We  may  consider  these  in  three 
successive  studies. 

The  pessimist  comes  first,  represented  by  the 
weeping  man  of  the  text.  This  man  may  stand  for 
many  thousands  who  have  stood  in  bitterness  before 
the  unsolved  riddle  of  human  life.  For  himself, 
he  cannot  silence  the  questions  that  find  no 
answer.  Why  has  he  been  sent  here  ?  Whither 
does  the  purpose  of  his  creation  tend  ?  What  is 
his  duty  meanwhile,  and  what  is  his  fate  to  be  at 
last  ?  For  others,  the  questions  are  aggravated  by 
the  conditions  under  which  most  men  live.  There 
is  the  pain  and  misery  and  sin  of  the  world  ;  and 
much  of  these  seems  so  unnecessary,  so  unfair,  and 
so  meaningless.  The  apparent  waste — the  heart- 
less and  unreasonable  waste  —  of  the  wealth  of 
human  hearts  and  lives,  force  upon  him  the  ques- 
tions. What  does  God  mean  by  making  a  world  like 
this  ?  and,  What  is  He  going  to  do  with  it  ? 

These  questions  find  no  answer.  No  man  is 
strong  enough   to  break   the   seals  and  open  the 


232       THKEE  VIEWS  OF  MAN'S  DESTINY 

book.  No  nation  is  strong  enough.  The  national 
thought  of  Greece  had  tried  it  in  the  sublime 
attack  of  its  philosophies  ;  that  of  Kome  in  the 
imperial  attack  upon  the  world ;  while  many  an 
Asiatic  people  had  already  sought  to  wrest  that 
secret  from  the  mysterious  hand  that  held  it.  Nay, 
the  strong  angel  himself  is  helpless  here.  The 
mystery  of  this  world's  life  is  baffling  not  only  to 
those  who  dwell  in  the  world,  but  to  whatever 
lofty  intelligences  look  on  from  the  spirit-world 
also.  All  these  pathetic  ''efforts  to  understand 
things  "  fill  the  writer's  mind  with  an  overwhelming 
sense  of  futility.  He  can  make  nothing  of  it,  and 
he  abandons  the  attempt  with  tears. 

There  were  other  elements  in  this  grief  besides 
baffled  curiosity.  We  all  learn  sooner  or  later  that 
many  things  in  this  strange  world  are  beyond  our 
understanding,  and  we  come  to  terms  with  the 
mystery  of  things  with  as  good  a  grace  as  we  can. 
But  there  are  special  elements  here,  which  in  some 
degree  enter  into  the  experience  of  all  such  seekers, 
and  which  give  to  pessimism  its  keenest  point. 

First  of  all,  the  dreamer  had  been  promised  a 
knowledge  of  the  future,  and  in  this  refusal  there 
was  something  like  a  claim  dishonoured.  And  in 
us  all  there  is  the  feeling  that  in  some  sense  we 
have  a  right  to  know.  We  are  not  asking  for  com- 
plete explanations,  but  surely  we  may  expect  light 
enough  to  live  by.     We  are  here  not  of  our  own 


THKEE  VIEWS  OF  MAN'S  DESTINY       233 

choice,  and  we  are  willing  to  accept  the  situation 
and  make  the  best  of  it.  But,  so  tangled  is  the 
skein  of  life,  it  often  happens  that  with  the  best 
intentions  men  make  the  most  serious  mistakes. 
We  want  some  sure  guidance,  and  above  all  we 
want  some  assurance  that  it  is  not  all  in  vain,  and 
that  our  destinies  are  not,  as  they  sometimes  seem 
to  be,  the  sport  of  chance.  We  are  willing  to  work 
cheerfully  or  to  suffer  patiently  if  we  can  only 
understand.  But  this  looks  Hke  the  demand  for 
day  labour  while  light  is  denied  us,  and  it  is  no 
wonder  though  we  weep. 

Second,  a  discovery  is  here  given  of  how  much 
is  required  for  such  knowledge  as  we  crave.  "  No 
man  is  worthy  to  open  the  book."  The  hindrance 
to  understanding,  the  veil  between  our  souls  and 
truth  is  our  own  sin,  and  conscience  further  em- 
bitters the  great  unanswered  question.  The  mys- 
tery of  life  often  seems  to  press  most  sorely  on  the 
good,  but  it  does  not  break  their  hearts.  They  find 
some  meaning  in  things  that  consoles  them  and 
gives  them  rest.  But  the  unworthy  have  no  such 
consolation.  It  is  they  who  weep  most  bitterly 
before  the  face  of  destiny,  and  rebel  against  the 
way  in  which  the  unintelligible  world  is  made. 
When  we  are  caught  in  the  mills  of  God,  the 
nether  millstone  on  which  any  soul  is  ground  is 
ever  its  own  unworthiness. 

The  lessons  of  all  this  are  plain.     When  we  are 


234       THEEE  VIEWS  OF  MAN'S  DESTINY 

confronted  with  the  blank  and  bitter  mystery  of 
things  it  is  not  well  to  brood  sullenly  on  the  sense 
of  a  dishonoured  claim.  The  book  is  unreadable, 
and  we  have  no  real  right  to  understand.  Neither 
science  nor  religion  professes  to  answer  all  our 
questions.  Our  theories  give  no  full  explanation, 
our  visions  are  but  glimpses  at  the  best.  "In 
mystery  the  soul  abides,"  and  to  the  end  we  are 
but  ''led  blindfold  through  the  glimmering  camp 
of  God ".  And,  further,  when  we  are  tempted  to 
despair  and  to  rebel  and  to  malign  the  world,  it  is 
well  to  ask  ourselves,  Am  I  ivorthy  to  open  the 
book?  What  grossness,  what  pride,  what  folly 
enter  even  into  our  desire  to  understand  ?  What 
use  have  we  made  of  the  light  vouchsafed  to  us  ? 
For  doubt  is  surprising  only  when  the  life  is  pure, 
and  they  who  know  most  are  those  who  are  "  hold- 
ing the  mystery  of  the  faith  in  a  pure  conscience  ". 
And  after  all  is  said,  however  natural  it  be,  and 
by  whatever  reasons  we  may  explain  it,  this  is  an 
unmanly  attitude  towards  life.  Granted  that  his 
claim  seems  dishonoured,  granting  that  he  is  con- 
science-stricken as  well,  still  the  last  word  that  a 
man  has  to  say  of  life  cannot  be  a  fit  of  weeping. 
Pessimism  is  always  and  in  all  circumstances  a 
poor  and  futile  thing,  and  its  answer  to  the  riddle 
of  the  universe  is  a  maudlin  answer.  However  hard 
and  cruel  destiny  may  seem  as  we  face  it,  at  least 
let  us  face  it  standing  on  our  feet.     Weep  for  your 


THEEE  VIEWS  OF  MAN'S  DESTINY       235 

own  relief  if  you  must,  but  do  not  let  others  see  or 
hear  you.  We  surely  cannot  be  justified  in  adding 
to  the  discouragement  of  the  world  by  any  policy 

of  wailing. 

And  when  the  discouragers  stand  back,  and  the 
sound  of  their  weeping  ceases,  we  find  that  they 
have  made  room  for  Christ.     What  we  have  heard 
is  all  we  are  going  to  hear  of  man's  unaided  effort 
to  understand  things.     The  other  two  voices  which 
we  shall  hear  are  voices  of  Christ.     Jesus  Christ, 
regarded  in  one  point  of  view  or  in  another,  is  the 
grand  solution  offered  by  our  Christian  faith.     He 
does  not,  indeed,  profess  to  explain  the  whole  mys- 
tery.    Many  things  remain  unintelligible  even  to 
them  that  believe.    Yet  He  has  done  more  to  solve 
the  riddle  of  human   life   than   ''all   the   ranged 
reasons  of  the  world "  ;  and  because  of  that,  the 
intellect  of  Christendom  is  able  to  rest  in  faith 
even  in  the  midst  of  strange  experiences  and  un- 
answered  questions.      Say   what  men  will  about 
Him,  it  is  evident  that  for  Him  the  book  of  destiny 
was  an  open  book.     He  has  told  us  what  He  could, 
and  it  has  been  enough.     He  has  known  and  told 
the  great  secret,  and  interpreted  our  life  to  us. 


THREE  VIEWS  OF  MAN'S  DESTINY 

2.   The  Gosj)el  of  Healthy-mindedness 

"  Weep  not :  behold,  the  Lion  of  the  tribe  of  Juda  .  .  .  hath 
prevailed  to  open  the  book." — Eevelation  v.  5. 

The  elder's  view  of  the  Messiah  is  ''the  Lion  of 
the  tribe  of  Judah,"  and  his  boast  is  that  Christ,  in 
that  capacity,  has  been  able  to  unseal  and  open  the 
book  of  human  destiny.  At  least  one  of  the  older 
commentators  has  recos-nized  in  this  elder  the 
figure  of  the  patriarch  Jacob,  and  has  referred  the 
text  back  to  the  splendid  words  of  Genesis  xlix.  9 
— "  Judah  is  a  lion's  whelp  ;  from  the  prey,  my  son, 
thou  art  gone  up :  he  stooped  down,  he  couched 
as  a  lion,  and  as  an  old  lion  ;  who  shall  rouse  him 
up?" 

It  would  seem  that  from  early  times  the  lion  had 
been  a  sort  of  insignia  of  Judah,  a  national  emblem 
like  the  Scottish  and  the  Persian  lion.  Dr.  Dods 
has  said  in  this  connexion,  "  There  is  enough  in  the 
history  of  Judah  himself,  and  in  the  subsequent 
history  of  the  tribe,  to  justify  the  ascription  to 
him  of  all  lion-like  qualities— a  kingly  fearlessness, 

confidence,  power,  and  success  ;  in  action  a  rapidity 

(236) 


THKEE  VIEWS  OF  MAN'S  DESTINY       237 

of  movement,  and  a  might  that  make  Him  irresist- 
ible, and  in  repose  a  majestic  dignity  of  bearing". 
The  same  writer  goes  on  to  contrast  the  "  rushing 
onset  of  the  lion  with  the  craft  of  the  serpent,  the 
predatory  instinct  of  the  wolf  and  the  swiftness  of 
the  hind  ".  This,  especially  in  times  of  oppression 
and  adversity,  gives  a  very  fair  idea  of  the  concep- 
tion of  Messiah  cherished  by  the  elders  of  Israel. 
To  their  passionate  patriotism  He  was  the  mirror 
and  emblem  of  national  strength  and  triumph. 

History  has  borne  out  the  lordly  boast.  Judea 
has  been  not  merely  a  personal  but  a  national  force 
in  the  arena  of  the  world's  destinies.  All  nations 
have  taken  their  part  in  the  grand  sum  total  of 
history,  but  it  is  Judea  that  has  led  the  way,  both 
in  the  understanding  and  in  the  shaping  of  the 
destinies  of  the  world.  Disraeli  has  boasted  that 
"  the  most  popular  poet  in  England  is  the  sweet 
singer  of  Israel,"  and  that  ''  the  divine  image  of  the 
most  illustrious  of  the  Hebrews  "  has  been  again 
raised  amid  the  homage  of  kneeling  millions  in  the 
most  civilized  of  the  kingdoms  of  Europe.  When 
we  think  of  what  Jesus  Christ  has  meant  already 
in  human  history,  we  are  constrained  to  confess 
that  that  gallant  little  nation,  perched  on  its  high 
ridge  of  rock,  has  indeed  unsealed  the  book.  By 
the  earliest  Christian  missions,  by  the  Crusades, 
and  by  the  unceasing  play  of  Christianity  upon  the 
West,  she  gave  its  future  to  savage  Europe.    Later, 


238       THKEE  VIEWS  OF  MAN'S  DESTINY 

when  the  New  World  opened  its  gates  to  the  Old, 
it  was  Puritan  Christianity  that  gave  its  noblest 
qualities  to  the  American  race.  To-day,  when  for 
Africa  and  Asia  the  seals  are  being  opened  in  so 
swift  and  dramatic  succession,  the  issues  of  the 
future  again  depend  wholly  on  the  Judean — it  will 
be  Christ  or  a  godless  civilization  more  ominous 
than  their  past  heathenism. 

But  the  Lion  of  the  tribe  of  Judah  may  also  be 
taken  as  the  representative  type  of  a  clearly  defined 
ideal  of  character.  It  is  the  oriflamme  of  the  Gos- 
pel of  healthy-mindedness,  and  the  doctrine  of  the 
strenuous  life.  This  Hon-like  attack  on  destiny  is 
indeed  a  magnificent  imagination.  It  tells  of  direct 
attack  that  scorns  diplomatic  cunning,  of  will  and 
main  force  whose  self-reliance  waits  neither  for  the 
backing  of  friends  nor  of  circumstances.  It  tells  us 
of  a  certain  band  of  warriors  against  fate  who  by 
sheer  force  and  rush  of  onset  have  carried  destiny 
by  storm.  Shakespeare  knew  them — men  who 
"  taking  arms  against  a  sea  of  troubles  "  would  "  by 
opposing  end  them  ".  Victor  Hugo  took  them  for 
ideal  types  of  character,  and  openly  proclaimed  his 
worship  of  strength.  George  Meredith  cried  to  us 
to  lay  hold  on  God  with  our  strength,  and  not 
with  our  weakness.  Stanley  and  a  host  of  other 
Western  adventurers  are  of  the  band.  Nansen 
uttered  this  elder's  cry  when  he  shouted,  ''Acci- 
dents shall  not  happen,"  and  drove  for  the  North. 


THEEE  VIEWS  OF  MAN'S  DESTINY       239 

These  are  the  men  of  stiirm  mid  drmig,  who 
master  and  enlist  the  great  forces  of  the  world.  For 
the  most  part  they  are  plain  men,  not  assuming  virtues 
of  greater  delicacy  than  they  can  understand. 
Always  they  are  strong  men,  who  are  not  wearied 
but  braced  by  labour  and  endurance.  They  are 
simple  men,  unembarrassed  by  the  subtle  question- 
ings which  distract  others.  They  cut  through  the 
knots  which  others  strive  in  vain  to  disentangle, 
and  their  only  refuge  from  discouragements  and 
fears  is  the  refuge  of  action.  Men  of  this  spirit 
may  do  superhuman  things,  taking  the  citadels  of 
destiny  by  assault.  Destiny  goes  down  before  Will, 
and  the  Weird  itself  (so  runs  the  ancient  Saxon  song) 
will  help  "  an  undoomed  man  if  he  be  brave  ".  Not 
even  the  sense  of  sin  and  failure,  nor  the  disheart- 
ening memory  of  the  irrevocable  past,  is  able  wholly 
to  daunt  such  spirits.  There  is  in  strong  and 
courageous  vitality,  a  strange  power  of  heahng  and 
of  purifying,  which  baffles  the  powers  of  darkness. 

Jesus  Christ  rides  at  the  head  of  that  company 
of  heroes.  He  is  not  the  opponent,  but  the  truest 
of  all  exponents  of  the  Gospel  of  the  healthy  mind. 
He  matched  His  strength  against  the  religious  hier- 
archy of  Jerusalem,  against  the  vast  Empire  of 
E/Ome,  against  the  world,  and  He  has  won  His  battle 
all  along  the  line.  In  the  progress  of  the  Christian 
conscience  we  see  Him  pitted  against  the  slaveries, 
oppressions,  injustices  of  two  thousand  years.     In 


240       THEEE  VIEWS  OF  MAN'S  DESTINY 

the  progress  of  Christian  civilization  we  see  Him 
combating  the  forces  of  sorrow,  poverty,  disease, 
and  death.  In  the  progress  of  religious  thought  we 
see  Him  conquering  prejudice,  hypocrisy,  and  errors 
of  the  mind  and  heart  and  will. 

It  is  good  to  think  thus  of  Christ  and  to  realize 
His  effectiveness  among  the  actual  forces  of  the 
world.  There  is  a  certain  type  of  mind  which, 
gazing  too  exclusively  on  His  tears  and  on  His 
wounds,  thinks  of  Jesus  with  a  sort  of  half-conscious 
pity,  and  associates  the  thought  of  Him  with  weak- 
ness and  effeminacy.  But  this  elder  comes  forth 
with  his  name  of  ''  the  lion  "  and  rescues  Him  from  a 
thousand  stained-glass  windows  where  He  has  hung 
anaemic  before  the  eyes  of  sentimental  worshippers. 
Here  is  God's  athlete,  the  real  and  eternal  Herakles. 
Here  is  the  lion,  bounding  into  the  arena  of  the 
world's  struggle,  terrible  in  His  might,  destroying 
that  which  He  opposes.  Here  is  the  ''  strong  Son  of 
God,"  and  He  is  at  the  head  of  all  the  daring. 

There  are  Christians  to-day  who  grow  timid  when 
they  realize  the  strength  of  the  secular  forces  of  the 
world  and  the  apparently  irresistible  power  of  evil 
in  society.  It  would  be  well  if  such  Christians 
would  forget  their  conception  of  Christianity  as 
a  forlorn  hope,  and  remember  that  those  who  are 
Christ's  are  in  the  sweep  of  the  greatest  of  all  the 
forces  now  operative  on  the  earth.  There  are  young 
men  who,  like  Christoferus  in  the  familiar  legend, 


THKEE  VIEWS  QF  MAN'S  DESTINY       241 

love  strength  and  will  follow  only  the  strongest. 
Here  is  their  leader.  Christ  has  had  time  to  prove 
His  strength,  and  to-day,  after  all  those  centuries,  He 
stands  forth  unconquered  and  unafFrighted.  Here 
is  the  hero  of  heroes,  the  eternal  leader  of  the 
strongest  and  most  resolute  men.  He  calls  not  for 
weaklings  to  love  Him,  but  for  strong  men  to  follow 
Him.  And  His  call  is  a  challenge  to  all  the  morbid 
and  the  idle  and  the  soft  and  self-indulgent.  You 
who  are  forgetting  your  manhood,  in  an  age  that 
calls  for  universal  service  and  the  redemption  of 
men  by  men ;  you  who  are  wailing  over  the  evils 
of  the  times  and  reading  melancholy  books ;  you 
who  are  spending  all  your  strength  in  other  service 
while  your  noblest  powers  are  rusting  from  disuse 
— rise  up  and  play  the  man !  And  you  whose 
spirit  still  is  manly,  and  who  fain  would  live  stren- 
uously and  follow  the  strongest — the  strongest  is 
among  you  ;  rise  and  follow  Christ. 


16 


THREE  VIEWS  OF  MAN'S  DESTINY 

3.  Love  and  Sacrifice 

"  A  Lamb  as  it  had  been  slain." — Eevelation  v.  6. 

The  lion  of  the  elder  is  a  true  aspect  of  Christ,  and 
yet  there  is  a  more  excellent  way.  It  is  the  way  of 
the  saint,  the  divine  seer  and  evangehst,  who  comes 
to  rest  upon  the  vision  of  ''  the  Lamb  standing  as  it 
had  been  slain,"  as  the  innermost  secret  of  life  and 
the  true  key  of  human  destiny.  For  there  is  a 
limit  to  the  power  of  will  and  courage,  and  sooner 
or  later  even  the  boldest  attack  teaches  us  by  its 
imperfect  success  that  we  mortals  must  "  approach 
destiny  respectfully  ". 

So  now  we  have  the  lamb  substituted  for  the  lion. 
And  it  is  apviov — "the  little  lamb" — quoted  from 
Isaiah  liii.  7,  but  purposely  changed  to  the  diminu- 
tive. This  is  the  favourite  thought  of  that  tender 
and  far-seeing  spirit  who  took  up  the  beautiful 
imagery  of  the  twenty-third  Psalm,  and  understood 
so  well  the  meaning  of  the  words  ''thy  gentleness 
hath  made  me  great,"  when  he  told  how  the  Baptist 
had  spoken  of  Jesus  as  the  Lamb  of  God. 

A  great  principle  is  embodied  here.     There  is  a 

(242) 


THKEE  VIEWS  OF  MAN'S  DESTINY       243 

Syrian  mountain  whose  black  basalt  breaks  the 
lofty  table-land  above  the  Sea  of  Galilee.  At  that 
mountain  the  Crusaders  lost  Palestine  after  one  of 
the  fiercest  of  their  battles.  On  the  same  spot,  ac- 
cording to  tradition  at  least,  Jesus  won  the  world 
by  his  Sermon  on  the  Mount.  It  is  the  merest 
commonplace,  alike  of  science  and  of  human  nature, 
that  the  humblest  approach  gains  the  richest  results. 
Nature  resists  man's  violence,  but  yields  inevitably 
in  the  end  to  his  loving  patience.  In  character, 
self-assertion  and  the  endeavour  to  make  an  impres- 
sion have  accomplished  much  ;  persecution,  punish- 
ment, and  coercion  have  done  much ;  but  love  has 
done  far  more  than  these.  Love  is  the  key  to 
destiny.  Force  may  succeed  outwardly,  and  yet  be 
but  a  magnificent  failure.  Love  never  fails  :  it  does 
its  appointed  work. 

It  was  this  which  was  the  life-long  task  and 
achievement  of  Jesus.  In  Him  the  world  has  seen 
love  at  once  revealing  and  making  destiny.  For 
what  was  it  in  Him  that  led  men  to  understand 
themselves  and  to  change  into  better  manhood  ? 
What  was  it  that  made  that  nobler  life  seem  no 
longer  an  impossible  ideal,  but  their  own  rightful 
heritage  ?  It  was  not  His  courage  nor  His  strength, 
not  His  absoluteness  nor  His  denunciation.  It  was 
simply  His  love — that  same  love  which  cured  the 
sickness  of  the  land  and  burst  open  the  tombs  of 
its  dead. 


244       THKEE  VIEWS  OF  MAN'S  DESTINY 

That  aspect  of  the  life  of  Christ  gives  us  a  great 
counsel  to  which  we  shall  take  heed  if  we  be  wise. 
When  we  have  tried  to  force  success  by  sheer 
daring  and  strenuousness  and  have  failed,  nothing 
is  more  natural  than  to  become  embittered.  But 
this  reminds  us  that  we  have  not  yet  exhausted 
our  resources.  One  power  remains  in  reserve,  the 
power  of  love.  Those  are  wise  who,  in  the  dark 
hour  of  defeat,  guard  the  springs  of  the  heart  and 
refuse  to  be  embittered.  Power  and  will  are 
broken,  but  love  remains  still  possible,  and  it  is 
really  the  greatest  power  of  all.  But  the  secret 
that  lies  behind  all  hearts  kept  open  and  generous 
is  deeper  than  the  human  effort  to  keep  them  so. 
*'We  love  because  He  first  loved  us."  When  all 
things  have  gone  against  a  man  and  he  cannot 
repress  the  question  whether  life  is  worth  its  cost, 
let  him  remember  the  love  of  Christ  and  stay  him- 
self on  that  great  fact.  Soon  such  a  one  will  no 
longer  wonder  ;  he  will  know. 

But  in  that  master-picture  of  Isaiah's  which  is 
here  presented,  there  is  a  further  meaning.  It  is 
not  only  the  lamb,  but  the  lamb  slain  that  we  see  ; 
not  only  love  but  sacrifice.  The  lamb  has  death- 
wounds  on  its  body,  as  it  stands  in  the  first  pathos 
of  death,  slain  though  not  yet  fallen.  This  is  indeed 
the  kind  of  love  that  conquers  destiny.  There  are 
many  kinds  of  love — placidly  selfish  love,  good- 
humoured  and   easy-going  affection,    that  knows 


THEEE  VIEWS  OF  MAN'S  DESTINY       245 

nothing  of  sacrifice.  But  this  is  by  far  too  great 
a  task  for  such  love.  The  book  of  destiny  remains 
for  ever  closed  to  selfishness. 

So  we  come  in  sight  of  the  ancient  truth,  old 
indeed  as  the  world  though  but  slowly  apprehended, 
that  man  must  sacrifice  to  destiny.  To  gain  either 
the  understanding  or  the  mastery  of  fate  you  must 
give  up  yourself.  It  is  a  hard  lesson,  but  it  is  the 
way  in  which  the  world  is  made,  and  we  must  all 
learn  it.  It  is  sacrifice,  and  sacrifice  alone,  that 
avails  in  the  last  resort  to  give  either  peace  or 
victory.  Life  has  no  power  to  resist  self-sacrifice. 
One's  own  unintelligible  experience  and  threatening 
future,  the  fate  of  one's  friends,  the  woe  of  the 
world — all  these  demand  sacrifice  for  their  ex- 
planation, and  that  is  the  last  word  life  has  to  say 
to  any  man.  And  it  is  always  possible  for  each  of 
us  to  accept  the  strange  condition.  A  man  can 
always  sacrifice  himself,  and  until  he  has  tried  that 
expedient  he  has  no  right  to  disbelieve  in  life  and 
rail  against  it.  While  we  are  insisting  on  our  right 
to  be  happy  and  successful,  we  are  still  at  cross 
purposes  with  the  world.  When  we  make  up  our 
mind  to  give  up  our  claim,  to  suff'er  with  the  world 
and  for  it,  all  the  perverse  appearance  of  things 
changes,  and  the  world  proves  reasonable  and  good. 
He  who  of  his  own  free  determination  steps  forward 
frankly  to  the  cross  and  accepts  it,  has  discovered 
a  new  meaning  in  human  life. 


246       THKEE  VIEWS  OF  MAN'S  DESTINY 

Behind  all  such  sacrifices,  interpreting  them  and 
inspiring  them,  stands  the  great  self-sacrifice  of 
Jesus  Christ.  As  we  see  Him  moving  on  towards 
Calvary  we  tremble  as  we  realize  how  the  fate  of 
the  world  turned  on  that  cross.  By  accepting  it 
He  revealed  the  meaning  of  man's  destiny,  and  He 
conquered  it  for  man.  The  lamb  slain  prevailed 
to  open  the  book.  The  revealing  power  of  the  Cross 
has  showed  how  through  suffering  man  is  made 
perfect,  and  changed  the  mystery  of  pain  to  the 
hope  of  glory,  the  bitter  cry  to  the  shout  of  victory, 
and  the  victims  of  life  to  the  sons  of  God.  The 
conquering  power  of  the  cross  has  changed  not 
only  the  aspect  of  things  but  the  things  themselves. 
Sin,  borne  and  mastered  there,  is  no  longer  a  doom 
but  a  thing  doomed.  Sorrow  and  pain  are  no  longer 
the  curses  of  humanity,  but  the  ministers  of  grace. 
Man  is  no  longer  a  failure  and  an  outcast,  but  one 
who  stands  above  his  fate,  ransomed  of  the  Lord. 

These  are  the  wonderful  ways  of  Jesus  Christ, 
the  lion-like  hero,  and  the  lamb  standing  as  it  had 
been  slain.  He  is  accessible  to  men  from  whatever 
side  they  approach  Him,  satisfying  the  need  of  one 
for  a  hero,  of  another  for  sacrifice  and  love.  And 
every  one  who  comes  to  Him  finds  sooner  or  later 
more  than  he  sought  to  find.  There  are  some  who 
come  to  Him  for  strength,  full-blooded  and  con- 
fident and  buoyant,  seeking  health  and  happy 
service.     These  find  what  they  have  sought,  but 


THEEE  VIEWS  OF  MAN'S  DESTINY       247 

they  also  find  love  and  sacrifice  waiting  for  them  ; 
and  though  at  first  they  may  wonder  and  shrink 
back,  in  the  end  they  will  know  that  life  can  only 
be  made  perfect  through  sufferings — His  and  theirs 
also.  Others  come  to  Him  thinking  only  of  sacrifice, 
bringing  only  their  broken  hearts  and  disappointed 
spirits  and  shamed  consciences ;  and  these  find  to 
their  amazement  that  Christ  has  for  them  also  gifts 
of  courage  and  strength  and  gladness.  Either  way 
this  is  true,  that  men  who  come  to  Him  find  always 
the  key  to  destiny  in  His  hands.  He  has  opened 
the  book,  and  for  them  no  longer  fate  but  Jesus 
Christ  is  lord  and  master  of  their  lives. 


WELL-MEANING  BLUNDERERS 

"  Blessed  is  he  that  shall  eat  bread  in  the  kingdom  of  God." — 

Luke  xiv.  15. 
"  Blessed  is  the  womb  which  bear  Thee  and  the  paps  which  Thou 

hast  sucked." — Luke  xi.  27. 

We  have  here  two  instances  in  which  well-meaning 
persons  lost  their  heads  when  they  heard  Jesus 
speaking  plain  home-truths.  They  have  their 
successors  in  every  age,  and  stand  for  peculiarly 
characteristic  types  of  the  two  commonest  ways  of 
turning  aside  the  edge  of  conviction.  The  woman 
turns  it  aside  by  an  emotion,  the  man  by  a  pious 
remark. 

1.  The  Woman. — Women  were  ever  quicker  than 
men  to  perceive  the  greatness  of  Jesus.  In  this 
instance  we  can  see  the  woman's  rising  excitement 
as  we  read  the  story.  The  perversity  and  rudeness 
of  His  treacherous  enemies  must  have  stung  the 
hearts  of  His  friends.  His  reply  to  them,  describing 
the  miserable  plight  of  the  devil-haunted,  and  the 
wandering  of  demons  in  the  wilderness,  further 
heated  her  imagination,  until  perhaps  she  had  grown 

almost  hysterical,  and  needed  the  relief  of  speech. 

(248) 


WELL-MEANING  BLUNDEEEKS  249 

It  was  the  cry  of  one  full  of  delight  in  His  human 
power  and  more  than  human  grace.  The  kind  and 
womanly  heart  of  her  speaks  out,  it  may  be  with 
the  passion  of  the  childless  or  the  yearning  of  one 
whose  children  had  shamed  her.  She  blesses  the 
unknown  mother  of  Jesus,  thinking  how  proud  she 
herself  would  have  been  to  have  borne  such  a  son. 
Her  cry  was  the  spontaneous  utterance  of  the  purest 
and  most  natural  emotion. 

Yet  Jesus  turned  it  aside  with  pointed  words 
about  the  blessedness  of  those  that  hear  the  Word 
of  God  and  keep  it.  His  words  were  very  gentle, 
yet  they  were  relentless.  He  was  carrying  on  His 
great  work,  intent  upon  the  supreme  moral  and 
spiritual  issues  of  men's  lives.  This  inrush  of  emo- 
tion, distracting  attention  from  the  line  of  His 
teaching,  was  in  the  nature  of  an  interruption  ;  and 
He  was  not  one  who  would  allow  the  beauty  or 
even  the  kindliness  of  an  emotion  to  interfere  with 
His  higher  mission. 

The  case  is  one  which  must  repeat  itself  so  long 
as  human  nature  is  what  it  is.  Life  is  ever  calling 
for  a  serious  dealing  with  the  facts,  and  there  are 
always  some  whose  answer  is  a  flash  of  feeling  and 
a  dramatic  exclamation.  Christ  calls  for  thought 
and  action,  for  hearing  and  doing,  and  we  are  apt 
to  offer  Him  this  cheaper  offering.  Feeling  has  its 
own  place  in  life,  but  that  is  not  its  place.  It  should 
accompany  or  follow  the  intellect  and  the  will ;  and 


250  WELL-MEANING  BLUNDEEEES 

the  grand  mistake  which  many  make  is  to  place  it 
first,  leaving  will  or  intellect  to  follow  as  best  they 
can  its  changeful  guidance.  No  matter  how  good 
the  feeling  may  be,  it  can  never  enter  deeply  enough 
into  the  meaning  of  Christ's  demand.  Indeed,  the 
better  it  is  the  more  dangerous  it  will  be  as  a  sub- 
stitute for  true  response,  for  it  will  be  but  the  more 
plausible,  though  quite  as  inadequate. 

2.  The  Man. — Seated  at  the  table  as  a  guest,  this 
unnamed  man  interrupts  the  discourse  of  Jesus  with 
a  somewhat  similar  remark.  It  does  not  look  like 
an  original  saying,  and  may  very  likely  have  been 
a  familiar  quotation  from  some  of  the  Rabbinical 
writings.  Matthew  Henry  takes  a  kindly  view  of 
the  incident :  ''  Even  those  that  are  not  of  ability  to 
carry  on  good  discourse  themselves  ought  to  put  in 
a  word  now  and  then,  to  countenance  it  and  help  it 
forward  ".  It  is  an  interpretation  characteristic  of 
that  most  courteous  of  divines,  but  it  is  quite  im- 
possible here.  Jesus  evidently  regards  the  words 
as  an  intended  interruption,  and  throws  them  aside 
in  His  very  pointed  parable  of  the  feast  and  the 
excuses. 

Quite  consciously,  in  this  case,  the  interjection 
was  intended  to  parry  the  thrust  of  Jesus'  words. 
His  speech  had  been  growing  more  and  more  direct 
and  personal.  It  had  become  an  exceedingly  trying 
conversation  for  the  listeners,  as  the  guest  proceeded 
to  rebuke  the  hospitality  of  his  host     To  relieve 


WELL-MEANING  BLUNDEKEES  251 

the  strain  this  well-meaning  man  changes  the  sub- 
ject from  the  present  occasion  into  the  wide  and 
spacious  future,  from  a  particular  instance  to  vague 
generalities  about  which  there  could  be  no  dispute. 
His  benignant   sentiments  and   edifying   remarks 
about  the  kingdom  of  God  may  well  have   won 
him  a  grateful  glance  from  the  uneasy  Pharisee  at 
the  head  of  the  table.     Certainly  the  incident  must 
have  appealed  strongly  to  any  one  of  the  guests 
who  had  a  sense  of  humour.     It  is  hardly  possible 
for  us  to  suppress  a  smile  when  we  think  how  anxi- 
ously some  very  proper  people  must  have  wished 
the  feast  was  over.     Jesus  was  so  explosive,  so 
unexpected — what  would  He  be  saying  next  ?     So 
this  nervous  little  creature  comes  to  the  assistance 
of  his  host  and  tries  to  save  the  situation.     But 
Jesus  is  come  not  to  save  situations  but  to  save 
souls.     He  has  no  use  for  edifying  remarks  which 
turn  aside  His  direct  thrust  at  the  consciences  of 
men.     And  this  is  a  man  who  is  afraid  of  the  naked 
flame  of  truth,  and  who  is  trying  to  protect  himself 
and  his  friends  from  Christ  by  what  he  took  to  be 
piety. 

Unfortunately  he  has  not  been  the  last  to  make 
that  attempt.  We  all  know  the  type  of  man  who, 
when  the  situation  is  becoming  somewhat  strained, 
exclaims,  ''  Blessed  "  is  somebody  or  other  !  ''  Don't 
let  us  talk  about  that,  let  us  talk  about  something 
pleasant."     This  is  the  sort  of  man  who  might  con- 


252  WELL-MEANING  BLUNDEBEBS 

ceivably  be  saved  by  an  outburst  of  clean  anger  or 
even  frank  profanity — saved  from  nervous  timidity 
and  bloodless  want  of  character.  As  it  is,  his  motto 
is  caution.  Eeduce  Christianity  to  platitude,  ex- 
plain away  or  tone  down  unwelcome  truth,  until 
"  the  Bible  as  usual  means  nothing  in  particular ; 
it  is  merely  an  obscure  and  figurative  copy-book  ". 
But  now  as  then  Christ  despises  language  so 
guarded  that  it  can  never  give  offence,  the  expres- 
sion of  a  complacently  vegetable  piety  which  drags 
the  honourable  word  in  the  mire.  Think  of  a  man 
sitting  at  the  feast  of  life — that  feast  which  for  the 
hearty  and  full-blooded  is  a  feast  of  fat  things  and 
red  wine — and  pulling  down  all  the  poignancy  and 
immediacy  of  the  occasion  by  making  edifying 
remarks  ! 

So  the  two  instances  are  really  common  examples 
of  the  practice  of  making  excuses  which  Jesus  so 
explicitly  rebukes  in  the  parable  which  follows. 
There  the  call  of  God  is  definite,  ''Come  to  My 
supper";  and  the  answer  of  men  is,  ''Nay,  but  let 
us  do  something  else,  no  matter  what ".  Here,  we 
have  two  kindly  but  fatuous  people  who  will  not 
follow  Christ's  lead  but  will  take  a  safer  line  of 
their  own.  The  great  issues  of  life  and  death,  of 
sin  and  judgment,  are  under  consideration — let  us 
talk  of  something  else,  and  get  back  among  ordi- 
nary subjects.  As  it  happens,  in  the  one  case  it  is 
a  religious  emotion  that  is  substituted  for  plain 


WELL-MEANING  BLUNDEKEBS  253 

dealing,  in  the  other  a  religious  platitude.  But 
neither  fervent  emotions  nor  good  thoughts  will  be 
accepted.  Platitudes  are  so  easy  and  emotions  so 
interesting,  but  the  facts  are  difficult  and  tragic. 
Life  and  death,  sin  and  sorrow,  must  be  fought 
with  greater  weapons.  The  call  of  Christ  is  to  step 
out  boldly  and  face  the  facts,  prepared  for  thought 
and  action. 


INTERPRETATION  BY  THE  LONG  RESULT 

"  What  I  do  thou  knowest  not  now,  but  thou  shalt  know  here- 
after."— St.  John  xiii.  7. 

Jesus  met  with  strange  treatment  from  His  friends. 
This  is  not  the  first  time  that  we  read  of  a  feast 
without  courtesy  at  which  He  sat.  But  there  is  a 
peculiar  bitterness  about  this  incident,  in  which  we 
see  the  childish  and  sulky  disciples  doing  their  best 
to  ruin  an  occasion  to  which  He  had  been  looking 
forward  with  a  great  desire.  So  He  took,  in  those 
hands  into  which  He  knew  that  the  Father  had 
given  all  things,  a  towel  and  a  jar  of  water  ;  and 
the  shamed  disciples  felt  the  hands  of  the  Master 
on  their  feet.  Judas  felt  them  without  remons- 
trance ;  but  it  was  unbearable  for  Peter,  and  in  his 
characteristic  fashion  he  remonstrated.  The  answer 
of  Jesus  is  the  text. 

So  here  we  have  one  of  those  apparently  casual 
sayings  which  are  yet  fraught  with  far-reaching 
significance.  The  incidental  remarks  of  Jesus  to- 
day become  the  discovery  of  the  Church  to-morrow, 
and  the  next  day  they  are  at  once  the  despair  and 

the  inspiration  of  the  noblest  eff'orts  of  mankind. 

(254) 


INTEKPEETATION  BY  THE  LONG  EESULT  255 

"  There  is  but  one  example,"  says  Lecky,  '^  of  a 
religion  which  is  not  necessarily  subverted  by  civil- 
ization, and  that  example  is  Christianity.  .  .  .  There 
is,  indeed,  nothing  more  wonderful  in  the  history  of 
the  human  race  than  the  way  in  which  that  ideal 
has  traversed  the  lapse  of  years,  acquiring  a  new 
strength  and  beauty  with  each  advance  of  civiliza- 
tion, and  infusing  its  beneficent  influence  into  every 
sphere  of  thought  and  action."  Jesus  used  to 
speak  of  Himself  as  casting  fire  and  sowing  seed 
on  the  earth ;  two  thousand  years  afterwards,  we 
see  the  fire  blazing  and  the  seed  multiplying  its 
harvests.  It  was  His  habit  to  send  out  waj^side 
words  which  were  afterwards  to  give  its  leading 
principles  to  human  life.  He  summed  up  in  Him- 
self the  purpose  of  the  ages,  and  sent  out  His  preg- 
nant words  and  deeds  into  the  future.  All  later 
history  has  been  the  commentary  on  those  words 
and  deeds,  and  Christianity  is  better  understood 
to-day  than  it  was  in  the  days  of  His  flesh. 

So  this  saying,  and  the  incident  which  gave  rise 
to  it,  appeared  at  the  time  not  only  outre  and  even 
unseemly,  but  also  quite  casual  and  insignificant. 
Their  significance  was  waiting  for  future  explana- 
tion, and  they  were  passed  on  to  the  Church  and 
the  world  for  that  disclosure.  Looking  back,  we 
can  see  how  that  simple  deed  of  kindly  ministry 
became  first  the  symbol  of  all  service,  and  of  all 
human  love   that  purifies  and  ministers  ;    until  it 


256  INTEKPEETATION  BY  THE  LONG  EESULT 

came  to  be  a  symbol  of  the  whole  person  and  work 
of  Christ,  revealing  the  meaning  of  the  great  mystery 
of  His  humiliation  and  of  His  supreme  service  of 
redemption  through  sacrifice. 

It  is  this  expansion  which  gives  to  this  incident 
and  the  words  their  peculiar  value.  We  are  always 
being  confronted  by  wayside  mysteries,  and  a  great 
part  of  every  hfe's  experience  is  unintelligible. 
Some  of  these  mysteries  are  small,  and  only  serve 
to  tempt  our  curiosity ;  others  are  great  and  ter- 
rible enough  to  appal  men's  faith  or  shake  their 
reason.  We  take  life  wrongly  when  we  count  the 
mystery  in  itself  an  injustice.  There  is  no  promise 
that  we  shall  ever  come  to  understand  life  at  the 
time,  nor  have  we  any  right  to  such  immediate 
understanding.  We  are  in  the  dark,  as  Peter  was, 
and  that  is  a  ''  reason  for  being  sparing  and  modest 
in  our  censures  of  God's  providence".  It  is  not 
probable  that  people  who  are  confessedly  in  the 
dark  shall  be  able  usually  to  judge  aright. 

The  first  and  most  obvious  message  of  the  words 
is  their  assurance  that  Christ's  disciples  may  safely 
trust  the  future.  It  is  evident  that  in  all  things 
God  counts  upon  the  future  and  works  for  the  long 
result.  In  His  operation  there  is  no  indecent  haste 
to  finish.  The  deliberateness  of  creation,  as  the 
doctrine  of  evolution  shows  it  moving  from  the  fire 
and  vapour  and  molten  masses  of  the  beginning  to 
the  fields  of  grain  and  the   peopled   lands,  is  an 


INTERPEETATION  BY  THE  LONG  RESULT  257 

immense  gain  over  the  hurried  succession  of  six 
eventful  days.  The  deliberateness  of  history  is  no 
less  remarkable  and  reassuring,  as  we  trace  the 
slow  progress  of  civilization  and  the  gradual  awaken- 
ing of  the  social  conscience.  And  the  story  of  the 
life  of  Jesus  affords  abundant  confirmation  of  this 
heartening  message.  His  absolute  trust  in  the 
future  led  to  a  deliberateness  of  action,  even  at 
critical  moments,  which  often  baffled  the  under- 
standing of  His  disciples.  He  took  His  time,  and 
refused  to  hurry.  And  when  the  end  was  at  hand 
He  entrusted  himself  and  His  cause  without  hesita- 
tion to  the  future  after  His  death. 

Christians  have  caught  this  trustful  spirit  toward 
the  future.  Hopeful  speaks  for  Christendom  when 
in  Doubting  Castle  he  says,  "  Who  knows  but  that 
God,  who  made  the  world,  may  cause  that  Giant 
Despair  may  die,  or  that  at  some  time  or  other  he 
may  forget  to  lock  us  in  ;  or  that  he  may  in  a  short 
time  have  another  of  his  fits  before  us,  and  may 
lose  the  use  of  his  limbs  ".  These  are  wise  words. 
When  we  are  very  young,  every  trouble  seems  final 
and  without  remedy.  As  life  advances,  we  come  to 
realize  how  infinite  are  the  possibilities  of  any  situa- 
tion and  how  rich  the  years  are  in  surprises,  until  the 
sense  of  finality  is  tempered  by  a  never-failing  last 
hope  in  the  off-chance.  The  future  is  full  of  explan- 
ations, and  already  we  have  been  often  satisfied  re- 
garding matters  which  seemed  to  admit  of  no  solution. 

17 


258  INTEEPEETATION  BY  THE  LONG  KESULT 

It  has  often  been  remarked  that  in  G.  F.  Watt's 
pictures,  the  figure  of  Time  is  not  the  conventional 
old  man,  weary  and  sinking  to  decay,  but  a  picture 
of  unfaiHng  youth  and  vigour.  That  is  an  essen- 
tially Christian  view,  and  it  is  abundantly  confirmed 
by  history.  Time  is  young  and  fresh,  ever  charged 
with  new  truth  and  incalculable  vitality.  Christian 
faith  sends  us  on  fearlessly  through  the  days  and 
years,  trusting  to  time  and  taking  our  unanswered 
questions  forward. 

Still  we  say  as  we  go, — 

"  Strange  to  think  by  the  way, 

Whatever  there  is  to  know, 
That  shall  we  know  one  day  ". 

Yet  that  assurance  is  not  enough,  for  the  fact  is 
that  life  seldom  fully  explains  itself.  In  order  to 
cherish  this  trust  we  need  some  deeper  conviction, 
some  root  of  faith  out  of  which  this  may  spring. 
Without  some  such  second  trust  the  bravest  optim- 
ism will  often  leave  the  aspect  of  the  future  ominous 
and  dark.  The  text  supplies  this  deeper  ground  of 
assurance  in  the  great  words  what  I  do.  In  these 
words  Christian  faith  sees  Christ  identifying  Himself 
with  the  providence  »of  God,  and  trusts  to  time 
because  it  is  sure  of  Christ.  We  live,  indeed,  in 
the  dark,  but  we  believe  through  Christ  that  a 
divine  plan  is  being  wrought  out  through  all  experi- 
ence. If  God  is  in  it- — if  He  is  indeed  working  out 
Christ's  great  ends  of  love — then  all  is  well.     If  He 


INTEKPKETATION  BY  THE  LONG  EESULT  259 

is  not  in  it  we  may  as  well  give  up  the  game.  It 
is  either  Christ  or  a  bottomless  pit  of  despair  ;  life 
is  either  "  what  I  do,"  or  it  is  the  sport  of  devils. 

Here,  then,  is  a  great  saying  concerning  all  that 
may  happen  to  those  that  believe.  We  know  of  a 
better  ally  than  the  off-chance.  God  is  at  work 
upon  our  lives,  and  our  experiences  are  His  acts. 
It  is  enough  for  us  that  Christ  speaks  of  them  as 
"  What  I  do  ".  Though  we  know  not  now  any  more 
than  that,  we  may  live  out  our  lives  without  fear. 
Time  and  history  form  one  long  commentary  on  the 
acts  of  God  and  on  the  mystery  of  Jesus  Christ. 
One  day  we  shall  look  back  and  understand  it  all. 
Meantime  we  can  wait  for  explanations,  confident 
that  if  Christ  is  doing  it,  all  is  well. 


TRUST  IN  THE  CHARACTER  OF  CHRIST 

"  What  I  do  thou  knowest  not  now,  but  thou  shalt  know  here- 
after."— St.  John  xiii.  7. 

In  the  former  study  of  these  words  we  found  the 
general  principles  that  disciples  of  Christ  may  trust 
to  time  and  face  the  future  without  misgiving,  and 
that  the  reason  for  this  confidence  is  in  the  words 
"  What  I  do  ".  But  this  message  is  so  surprising 
and  so  far-reaching  that  it  will  be  worth  our  while 
to  trace  it  out  in  some  detail. 

1.  The  commonest  application  of  the  text  is  to 
our  ordinary  individual  experience,  especially  of 
sorrow.  Many  a  sore  heart  has  found  comfort  in 
the  assurance  that  its  pain  is  Christ's  doing,  mys- 
terious for  the  present  but  waiting  for  an  ultimate 
explanation.  The  very  fact  of  handing  on  the 
explanation  to  the  future  is  worthy  of  attention. 
There  will  always  be  much  in  life  that  has  to  be 
accepted  unexplained — much  that  even  our  faith  in 
Christ  does  not  explain.  He  Himself  felt  this  with 
His  disciples.  There  were  things  He  could  not 
make   them   understand.      He   used   to    wish   He 

could,  and  we  feel  the  pain  of  suppression  in  such 

(260) 


TKUST  IN  THE  CHAEACTEE  OF  CHEIST     261 

sayings  as  "  I  have  yet  many  things  to  say  unto  you, 
but  ye  cannot  bear  them  now  ".  Often  it  would  be 
no  use  trying  to  tell  these  things,  for  He  could  not 
make  us  in  any  sense  understand.  We  are  not  yet 
fit  to  know,  not  big  enough  yet  to  look  steadily 
upon  the  face  of  life  and  to  glory  in  tribulations. 

Yet  one  thing  He  has  told  us — "  I  do  it ".  And 
that  is  the  last  word  that  can  be  said  to  sorrow,  for 
it  shifts  the  burden  from  our  understanding  over  to 
the  character  of  Christ.  In  this  He  has  made  Him- 
self ultimately  responsible  for  all  that  happens 
to  us.  We  dwell  upon  the  hardness  of  circum- 
stances, upon  the  world  and  the  powers  of  dark- 
ness, upon  our  own  mistakes  or  follies  or  sins. 
These  may  indeed  be  the  occasions  of  much  suffer- 
ing ;  but  beyond  these,  in  every  hour  of  sorrow, 
there  still  lies  the  will  of  God.  This,  after  all  is 
said,  still  is  ''  What  I  do  ". 

It  is  equally  legitimate  for  glad  hearts  to  apply 
the  words  to  their  happiness.  In  very  bright  hours 
we  are  almost  afraid  to  acknowledge  our  belief  in 
life,  and  our  happy  sense  of  the  world.  Fears  invade, 
and  we  ask  whether  future  experience  will  honour 
our  faith  in  life  ;  to  which  Christianity  rephes  that 
experience  worketh  not  disillusion  but  hope.  In 
spite  of  much  sorrow,  life  is  better  than  any  of  its 
first  promises.  The  fugitive  and  sudden  glories 
change  to  a  settled  peace  and  sense  of  well-being: 
The  early  momentary  and  passionate  flashes  of  joy 


262    TEUST  IN  THE  CHAEACTER  OF  CHEIST 

grow  to  a  constant  steady  exhilaration.  The  sense 
of  a  "  hannting  strangeness  in  beauty  "  ripens  into 
the  sweet  familiarity  and  homeliness  of  love.  Thus, 
for  every  wholesome  nature,  young  pleasures  under- 
go their  change  "  into  something  rich  and  strange  ". 
Our  faith  in  life  was  abundantly  justified,  and  the 
half  was  never  told  at  first.  The  years  have  led  the 
happy  spirit  onward,  exploring  the  pleasures  that 
are  at  God's  right  hand.  Our  first  delighted 
moments  gave  us  no  hint  of  the  wealth  of  goodwill 
from  which  the  Father  was  drawing,  or  the  kind- 
ness of  His  love.  What  He  is  doing  we  know 
not  at  the  time,  but  we  understand  more  fully 
afterwards. 

2.  A  still  wider  field  opens  before  us  in  respect 
of  service.  The  incident  in  the  upper  room  seemed 
slight,  but  it  was  full  of  social  significance.  That 
day  they  thought  he  was  only  washing  the  feet  of 
a  few  disciples.  Time  has  shown  that  He  was 
freeing  slaves,  building  hospitals,  founding  charities, 
inaugurating  social  science,  educating  the  social 
conscience  of  mankind. 

The  service  of  man  is  a  matter  that  has  been  but 
slowly  understood.  At  first,  knowing  not  what 
he  had  done  that  day,  the  tendency  was  to  mere 
imitation  of  the  act,  in  voluntary  humility,  poverty, 
and  ascetic  discipline.  But  His  words  foretold  not 
imitation  but  development,  and  told  us  in  this  sense 
also  to  trust  the  future,  to  which  he  had  committed 


TKUST  IN  THE  CHAEACTEK  OF  CHKIST    263 

his  pregnant  deed.  This  should  set  for  us  our 
attitude  towards  new  and  strange  developments  of 
the  service  of  man  by  man.  We  cannot  expect 
these  to  repeat  endlessly  the  old  forms  of  service, 
but  should  be  prepared  to  welcome  in  new  forms 
the  ancient  works  of  Christ, 

Nothing  is  more  striking  than  the  direction  in 
which  the  ideals  of  self-sacrifice  have  been  moving. 
Beginning  with  the  idea  of  self-denial  for  its  own 
sake  and  for  the  discipline  solely  of  the  person  who 
undertook  it,  it  gradually  passed  out  into  more  and 
more  useful  ideals  which  measured  its  value  by  the 
help  it  brought  to  others.  When  we  claim  develop- 
ment for  the  words  of  Jesus  we  mean  that  the 
Christian  ideals  of  the  service  of  man  must  have 
room  to  grow,  to  be  original,  to  adapt  themselves 
to  the  requirements  of  each  successive  age.  Thus 
in  each  new  doctrine  of  economics,  in  each  new 
departure  in  social  work,  and  in  each  new  phase  of 
civilization  and  philanthropy,  men  are  simply  com- 
ing to  know  long  afterwards  what  Jesus  did  that 
day  when  He  washed  the  feet  of  His  disciples.  And 
each  new  discovery  of  that  sort  is  but  a  new  de- 
claration of  Christ's  astonishing  reversal  of  the 
traditional  conceptions  of  master  and  servant.  The 
master  has  come  to  mean  the  man  who  can  do 
the  best  service.  He  is  the  greatest  among  us  who 
is  the  most  sympathetic  in  understanding  and  the 
readiest  in  helping  the  need  of  his  fellow-man. 


264    TKUST  IN  THE  CHAKACTEE  OF  CHKIST 

3.  The  words  are  also  applicable  to  the  whole  of 
what  Christ  was  then  doing  for  the  redemption  of 
man.  His  enemies  were  bringing  the  cross  to 
Him,  with  very  definite  and  clearly  understood 
meanings  of  shame  and  cruelty  attached  to  it.  But 
He  took  the  cross  out  of  the  hands  of  His  enemies, 
made  it  His  own,  and  attached  to  it  a  totally  dif- 
ferent set  of  meanings  from  that  time  onward.  The 
church  has  known,  as  none  of  the  twelve  could 
possibly  know  that  day,  what  it  was  that  He  did. 

A  similar  development  may  be  seen  in  the  under- 
standing of  redemption  by  every  one  of  the  redeemed. 
When  first  Christ  came  to  us  to  deal  with  our  sins, 
to  hear  our  confession  and  to  handle  our  sordid 
lives,  the  heart  cried  out  in  wonder — Ah,  Lord,  Thou 
hast  washed  my  feet !  We  thought  we  knew  what 
He  had  done  ;  we  may  even  have  framed  a  pretty 
complete  theological  expression  of  it ;  but  in  reality 
we  did  not  know  the  richer  fullness  of  meaning 
which  time  was  to  unfold.  At  first,  our  Christian 
faith  had  to  be  stated  at  its  minimum — how  little 
can  I  have  of  it,  and  yet  legitimately  claim  to  be  a 
Christian  ?  Afterwards,  the  soul  wonders  at  the 
unexpected  vistas  of  experience  that  open  out  be- 
fore it  as  it  advances  further  into  the  fullness  of  the 
Christian  life.  At  first  it  knows  only  of  the  healing 
of  the  spirit's  wound  ;  at  last  it  perceives  with  aston- 
ishment the  glory  of  the  Lord.  At  the  first,  it  is 
but  a  hungry  soul  that  has  been  fed ;  at  the  last  it 


TEUST  IN  THE  CHAKACTEK  OF  CHKIST    265 

stands  in  the  light  before  the  throne  of  God,  sing- 
ing the  song  of  the  redeemed. 

Thus  the  Christian  life  is  a  very  wonderful  thing, 
a  reticent  and  unfolding  thing.  It  never  discloses 
itself  at  the  beginning,  nor  will  any  period  of  time 
suffice  to  reveal  to  any  soul  fully  all  the  meaning  of 
the  service  which  Christ  rendered  to  men.  It  will 
take  a  life-time,  yes  all  the  lives  of  Christendom,  to 
explain  what  he  did  that  day.  What  he  did  for  us 
we  know  not  yet,  but  we  may  know  more  and  more 
of  it  if  we  are  faithful  and  desirous. 


THE  EXPLOEATION  OF  THE  HIDDEN 
LIFE 

"  Your  life  is  hid  with  Christ  in  God." — Colossians  hi.  3. 
"  Continue  in  prayer." — Colossians  iv.  2. 

These  words  were  addressed  to  the  Colossians,  a 
people  peculiarly  open  to  the  attacks  of  incipient 
gnosticism.  The  Gnostics  sought  after  hidden 
mysteries  until  all  the  world  about  them  was  un- 
canny— full  of  whispers,  presences  emerging  out  of 
the  mist  of  dreams,  wraiths  of  thought.  Here 
Paul  offers  them  something  in  Christianity  that  will 
appeal  to  such  tastes.  There  is  no  need,  he  would 
say,  to  go  past  Christ  for  mysteries.  He,  and  men's 
relations  with  Him,  are  the  deepest  mysteries  of  all. 
The  words  were  taken  up  by  Christian  theology 
in  its  doctrine  of  the  ''  Mystical  Union  ".  We  died 
with  Him,  and  the  old  life  passed  away,  the  life  that 
had  been  mastered  and  bewitched  by  the  world  and 
directed  by  its  instincts.  In  its  stead  a  new  life 
was  born,  higher  and  purer  than  the  old,  which  we 
share  with  the  risen  Christ.  But  this  is  no  longer 
a  comprehensible  or  even  a  visible  life.     There  is  a 

secret  element  in  spiritual  communion  of  which  the 

(266) 


EXPLOEATION  OF  THE  HIDDEN  LIFE    267 

world  knows  nothing.  It  is  hidden  with  Christ, 
who  is  Himself  hidden  in  God — a  very  mystical 
conception. 

Christian  experience  confirms  this  though  it  does 
not  explain  it.  Our  faith  and  character  are  safe  in 
that  great  hiding-place — safe  from  enemies  of 
doubt  or  of  temptation  that  would  rob  us  of  them. 
Like  John  Bunyan,  we  say  with  full  security,  ''  My 
Righteousness  is  on  high  ".  From  ourselves  even 
is  this  secret  hidden.  No  Christian  professes  to 
understand  his  own  spiritual  experience  or  to  be 
able  fully  to  rationalize  it.  It  all  ends  ultimately 
in  the  mystery  of  the  Divine.  The  great  change 
from  sin  and  the  desire  of  sin  to  the  grace  that 
makes  all  things  new  is  not  a  matter  of  our  own 
doing,  nor  is  it  an  effect  of  natural  causes  we  can 
trace.  Let  anyone  look  back  to  the  great  event  of 
his  spiritual  new  birth  ;  he  will  be  very  sure  of  God 
in  it,  but  the  rest  will  be  lost  in  mystery. 

This  is  indeed  a  theological  doctrine,  but  it  is  no 
theological  fiction.  "The  hiddenness  of  perfect 
things  "  is  a  broad  fact  of  common  knowledge.  And, 
confessedly,  the  most  deeply  hidden  of  all  things 
is  the  meaning  of  our  own  life.  By  many  diverse 
methods — by  hunger  and  pain  and  love,  by  all  our 
blind  gropings,  by  our  restlessness  of  search,  by 
''  the  infinite  craving  for  an  infinite  filling  " — we  are 
lured  on  towards  an  ultimate  goal.  Our  life  is  hid : 
we  are  out  on  the  life-long  search  for  it. 


268    EXPLOEATION  OF  THE  HIDDEN  LIFE 

But  often,  in  the  world's  most  crowded  streets, 
But  often,  in  the  din  of  strife. 
There  rises  an  unspeakable  desire 
After  the  knowledge  of  our  buried  life. 

Thus,  by  its  own  exquisite  confession,  is  humanity 
disappointed  in  its  search,  until  only  the  more 
strenuous  seekers  retain  the  faith  that  there  is 
anything  to  find.  But  the  Christian  knows  where 
that  treasure  lies.  He  is  confident  of  finding  him- 
self at  last.  Day  by  day,  with  recurring  surprise, 
he  discovers  some  new  aspect  of  that  for  which  he 
seeks,  or  at  least  some  trace  of  it.  He  knows — he 
is  the  one  man  on  earth  who  does  know — the 
secret  of  the  buried  life.  His  life  is  hid  with  Christ 
in  God. 

Under  this  light  prayer  takes  on  a  new  signifi- 
cance and  interest.  It  is  the  search  for  hidden 
treasure.  We  all  know  how  stimulating  a  motif 
this  search  has  been  in  romance.  Which  of  us  has 
not  seen  the  ingots  shining  in  the  light  of  fires  of 
broken  wreckage  on  a  far-off  shore  ?  Such  is  the 
romance  of  prayer,  in  which  we  see  the  soul  wan- 
dering in  dim  mysterious  regions,  seeking  for  the 
hidden  treasure  of  its  true  life.  There  are  various 
aspects  of  prayer.  It  may  be  regarded  as  ritual,  a 
matter  of  ceremony  artistically  correct.  It  may 
be  regarded  as  a  problem  in  metaphysics,  opening 
curious  questions  as  to  the  uniformity  of  law. 
These  are  narrow  conceptions  compared  with  this. 


EXPLOKATION  OF  THE  HIDDEN  LIFE     269 

The  horizons  of  our  thought  and  imagmation  sweep 
far  out  as  we  think  of  prayer  as  man's  search  for 
himself  through  the  vast  universe.  This  explorer — 
this  huntsman  of  his  own  soul — speeds  along  the 
whole  line  of  his  activities,  across  the  whole  field  of 
his  interests,  until,  in  some  hour  perhaps  of  diffi- 
culty and  of  strain,  he  finds  the  sudden  revelation 
of  the  meaning  of  unintelligible  experience,  and  of 
the  presence  of  an  unseen  Friend.  In  the  heart  of 
Christ  the  man  has  discovered  his  own  life.  He 
may  not  be  able  to  give  reasons,  but  he  under- 
stands and  is  quite  sure.  He  can  go  back  now, 
and  endure  and  be  glad.  Or  again,  at  times  when 
all  is  in  perplexity,  the  very  exercise  of  prayer 
shows  him  what  he  would  be  at.  Free  from  pre- 
judices, delusions,  and  temptations,  the  mere  act  of 
turning  to  the  Highest  gives  him  the  truest  expression 
of  himself,  the  fullest  and  most  exalted  utterance  of 
experience.  He  has  sought  and  found  his  hidden 
life.  John  Knox's  great  words  are  true  :  "  We  come 
to  seeke  our  Lyfe  and  Perfection  in  Jesus  Christ  ". 

The  truth  of  this  is  most  obvious  in  regard  to  the 
highest  reaches  of  life,  the  moral  and  the  spiritual. 
A  sensitive  and  living  conscience,  the  rich  and 
wonderful  sense  of  forgiveness,  moral  strength  and 
resoluteness  for  the  future,  and  beyond  all  the 
promise  of  eternal  life  in  God — these  are  life  indeed, 
such  as  the  world  knows  not.  Yet  to-day  let  us 
rather  keep  to  the  lower  ranges.     For  these  higher 


270     EXPLOEATION  OF  THE  HIDDEN  LIFE 

ones  are  more  commonly  supposed  to  be  accessible 
only  by  learning  the  secret  of  the  Lord :  the  lower, 
men  think  they  can  explore  apart  from  Him. 

1.  Physical  life,  in  which  ''  life  "  means  "  health  ". 
Much  harm  has  been  done  by  that  anaemic  pre- 
sentation of  the  Christian  life  which  gives  the  im- 
pression of  something  spectral  and  as  far  as  possible 
disembodied.  It  is  a  great  mistake  to  imagine  that 
to  be  an  invalid  is  in  itself  a  Christian  grace.  Cer- 
tainly Jesus  held  no  such  view.  The  effect  of  His 
life  was  on  all  hands  to  bring  men  back  from  sick- 
ness to  a  condition  keenly  alive  to  the  earth  and  its 
work  and  charm.  He  rejoiced  not  in  weakness  and 
disease  but  in  the  coursing  blood  and  the  clean 
strength  of  the  body.  His  gospel  was  emphatically 
the  gospel  of  health. 

Our  bodily  life  is  hid  with  Christ  in  God,  and  that 
is  among  the  prizes  which  prayer  finds  and  secures. 
Not  only  does  the  habit  of  prayer  tend  to  restrain 
a  man  from  hurtful  excesses.  He  who  prays  learns 
to  hold  his  physical  life  more  precious  and  to  regard 
it  as  a  sacred  trust,  knowing  its  worth  better  than 
other  men.  It  puzzles  us  to  see  the  vast  and 
anxious  attention  which  some  men,  whose  life  is  so 
poor  and  meaningless  an  affair,  bestow  upon  their 
health.  The  discovery  of  an  infinite  significance 
and  value  for  our  earthly  life  is  the  only  justification 
for  such  tender  care. 

As  to  the  question  of  the  effect  of  prayer  upon 


EXPLOEATION  OF  THE  HIDDEN  LIFE     271 

the  condition  of  one's  physical  health,  it  is  a  difficult 
question,  and  anything  that  can  be  said  about  it 
must  be  rather  in  the  nature  of  a  practical  hint  than 
of  a  scientific  explanation.  Here,  more  than  in 
most  regions,  it  is  necessary  to  avoid  the  extrava- 
gances of  half-educated  or  rash  speculation.  Sci- 
ence is  as  truly  God's  gift  and  will  as  prayer  is, 
and  any  prayer  which  sets  itself  up  as  a  substitute 
for  medical  skill  is  mere  presumption.  Nor  can 
prayer  and  medicine  combined  effect  more  than  a 
certain  limited  amount.  The  last  factor  in  the  case 
is  the  will  of  God,  and  our  times  are  in  His  hand. 

Yet  prayer  may  be  a  real  means  of  finding  a 
healthy  life.  So  closely  are  body  and  mind  con- 
nected, that  the  very  moods  which  prayer  induces 
will  react  in  health  upon  the  body.  By  prayer 
peace  may  come  upon  the  spirit ;  and  nature, 
hindered  by  tingling  nerves  and  agitations,  may  get 
her  chance.  In  prayer  the  thought  and  desire,  set 
upon  healthy  conditions,  may  awaken  the  will  and 
purpose,  and  the  chances  of  health  are  vastly  better 
for  those  who  will  to  be  well  than  for  those  who 
have  lost  heart  and  energy.  For  the  rest,  the  ab- 
stract question  of  how  prayer  is  answered  is,  and 
must  always  remain,  obscure.  Sir  Oliver  Lodge 
strikes  the  true  note  when  he  says  that  the  fatalistic 
attitude  is  the  unfilial  one.  We  are  but  children 
in  such  matters,  and  the  choice  is  between  being 
''solemn  little  prigs,"  superior  to  faith;  or  simple 


272    EXPLOEATION  OF  THE  HIDDEN  LIFE 

children  who  say  to  their  father  what  they  want. 
We  shall  never  get  beyond  that  to  any  higher 
thought,  and  if  we  insist  on  passing  on  from  it,  it 
must  be  to  a  lower  one.  This,  at  least,  is  true,  that 
the  life  even  of  our  flesh  is  hid  with  Christ  in  God, 
and  that  in  prayer  we  are  approaching  its  quickening 
springs. 

2.  Emotional  life,  in  which  *'  life "  means  har- 
mony and  peace.  The  first  promise  of  Christianity 
is  keen  vitality,  by  which  it  at  once  distinguishes 
itself  from  all  such  religions  as  aim  at  the  death  of 
desire  or  the  callousness  of  the  steeled  heart.  But 
the  vitality  of  the  feelings  is  apt  to  produce  a  wild 
travesty  of  life  rather  than  a  controlled  and  steady 
flow  of  fitting  emotions.  The  daily  work  and  the 
daily  battle  are  intended  to  move  to  the  sound  of 
appropriate  music  of  moods  and  feelings.  Too 
often  that  music  rises  to  discordant  shrieking,  or 
sinks  to  the  depression  of  a  funeral  march.  At 
such  times  of  random  tempers  or  sullen  distemper, 
we  say  ^'  we  are  not  ourselves,"  and  we  say  truly. 
Again,  prayer  leads  us  out  to  find  ourselves. 

That  hidden  life  which  we  go  to  find  in  Christ  is 
not  passionless.  The  moods  are  legitimate  elements 
in  experience,  though  they  require  harmony  and 
control.  When  the  strain  is  felt,  before  the  mood 
expresses  itself,  go  to  find  it  as  it  is  in  Christ. 
There  it  will  be  safe  for  you  to  be  true  to  it,  and 
frankly  let  it  find  expression.     So  the  depression 


EXPLOEATION  OF  THE  HIDDEN  LIFE    273 

of  drudgery  will  become  the  earnest  enthusiasm 
of  labour.  Battle  will  change  from  a  squabble  to 
a  crusade.  Sullenness  will  change  to  sympathy  that 
feels  the  sense  of  tears  in  mortal  things.  Exaspera- 
tion will  lose  its  blindness  and  yield  instead  a 
swift  and  brilliant  vision  of  the  mind  of  Christ 
regarding  wrong. 

3.  Social  life,  in  which  ''life"  means  love  and 
service.  Our  social  instincts  tell  us  of  a  larger  self 
which  includes  our  relations  to  others.  Social 
science  is  doing  noble  work  in  its  efforts  to  under- 
stand and  adjust  these  relations.  But  in  the  mean- 
time generous  and  earnest  men  are  often  sorely 
perplexed.  To  suggest  prayer  as  a  substitute  for 
sound  economics  is  mere  cant,  which  those  who 
feel  the  pressure  of  present  conditions  will  justifi- 
ably treat  with  scorn.  Yet  that  which  lies  at  the 
root  of  all  these  disputes  is  not  details  either  of 
present  injustice  or  of  future  amendment.  It  is  the 
spirit  of  men's  minds  towards  one  another.  In  that 
lies  our  true  social  life. 

That  life  of  right  social  spirit  is  hid  with  Christ 
in  God.  It  is  found  neither  in  debate  nor  in  legis- 
lation. Prayer  alone  can  find  it.  Those  finer  under- 
standings in  which  class  prejudices  and  dislikes 
vanish ;  the  discovery  of  those  common  interests, 
rights  and  duties,  joys  and  sorrows,  which  are  the 
same  to  all  men  ;  that  recognition  of  common  worth, 

in  which  consists  the  real  brotherhood  of  men — these 

18 


274    EXPLOEATION  OF  THE  HIDDEN  LIFE 

are  the  very  spirit  of  Christ,  and  prayer  is  the  means 
of  their  discovery. 

So,  through  prayer,  we  pass  on  to  that  widest 
charity  which  is  the  true  spirit  of  public  life.  Paul 
exhorts  that  ''intercessions  and  givings  of  thanks 
be  made  for  all  men  ".  Such  intercession  if  it  be 
intelligent  and  honest  will  open  the  intercessor's 
heart  to  the  sorrows  of  his  fellow-men.  Such  thanks- 
giving will  be  impossible  except  to  those  who  are 
prepared  to  right  their  wrongs.  That  is  the  true 
hearty  Christian  spirit — intercessions  and  thanks- 
givings for  all  this  crowded  world  of  human  life. 
It  is  not  pity,  far  less  scorn,  but  the  true  spirit  of 
public  life,  the  insight  and  good-will  without  which 
no  man's  manhood  is  complete.  In  prayer  we  go  to 
find  that  life  also,  hid  with  Christ  in  God. 

In  a  word,  our  true  hfe  in  all  its  relations  is  hid 
with  Christ  in  God.  The  solutions  of  critical 
problems,  the  answers  to  great  questions,  require 
more  than  painful  thought.  They  require  that  we 
be  our  true  selves  to  think  and  act  truly  among 
them.  By  prayer  we  go  to  seek  and  find  our  true 
selves  in  Him.  In  His  will  is  our  peace,  in  His 
favour  our  life,  in  His  love  our  power  of  loving 
wisely  so  that  we  may  rightly  serve  our  generation. 


WEARINESS  OF  EESPONSIBILITY 

"Make  me  as  one  of  thy  hired  servants." — Luke  xv.  19. 

The  motive  for  these  words  has  been  variously 
understood.  Some  have  accused  the  prodigal  of 
lingering  self-righteousness  ;  as  if  he  were  demand- 
ing to  work  for  his  living,  too  proud  to  receive 
anything  on  charity.  Others  have  taken  them  to 
be  a  promise  of  new  obedience,  in  which  he  asked 
for  a  chance  of  showing  how  genuine  was  the 
change  of  heart.  More  usually  they  have  been 
understood  to  be  simply  an  expression  of  humilia- 
tion and  of  shame.  He  had  forfeited  his  sonship, 
and  entertained  no  idea  of  complete  restoration. 
He  could  only  hope  now  to  be  admitted  as  a  ser- 
vant into  the  house  where  he  had  once  lived  as 
a  son. 

No  doubt  this  last  is  the  view  that  is  truest  to 
the  story.  Certainly  there  is  no  ground  for  the 
suggestion  of  self-righteous  pride  or  the  desire  for 
wages.  But  there  is  a  further  suggestion  in  the 
words,  which  takes  us  far  in  among  the  facts  of 
human  nature.  The  request  was  not  the  mere 
consent  to  a  disagreeable  position  chosen  because 

it  was  the  lower  place.     It  was  a  positive  choice 

(275) 


276         WEAEINESS  OF  EESPONSIBILITY 

of  that  position,  as  the  one  which  he  preferred  to 
occupy. 

He  asked  for  hired  service  because  he  was  sick 
of  freedom.  There  had  been  a  time  when  freedom 
was  the  only  thing  he  wanted.  The  desire  of  it  had 
led  him  away  from  his  home  to  the  far  land.  The 
routine  of  home,  the  tediousness  of  that  dull  person 
his  elder  brother,  the  restraint  of  a  younger  son 
living  in  his  father's  house, — these  had  become  in- 
tolerable to  his  young  blood.  He  heard  the  call  of 
the  sparkling  world  beyond  the  horizon  of  the 
homestead.  There  a  man  might  live  without  re- 
strictions and  go  as  he  pleased. 

He  went,  a  lad  lighthearted  and  easily  seduced. 
He  found  his  freedom,  and  did  what  he  liked. 
Soon  all  guidance  of  his  affairs  was  gone,  and  he 
was  whirled  along  in  a  rush  of  pleasures,  the  mere 
sport  of  circumstances  and  of  lusts.  Freedom  is 
a  noble  thing,  if  it  be  accompanied  by  a  clear  mind 
and  a  powerful  will  that  keeps  its  self-control. 
Freedom  is  a  grand  ideal  to  dream  and  boast  and 
sing  about.  It  is  claimed  as  the  native  right  and 
heritage  of  every  man,  and  it  seems  little  short  of 
sacrilege  even  to  qualify  that  claim.  Yet  it  must 
be  qualified  if  it  is  to  be  anything  but  a  misleading 
and  dangerous  fallacy.  It  is  true  in  the  sense  that 
until  he  has  attained  to  liberty  no  man  has  reached 
his  ideal  manhood,  or  in  any  full  measure  come  to 
his  own.     But  it  is  not  true  that  for  all  men,  or  for 


WEAKINESS  OF  EESPONSIBILITY        277 

many  men  at  their  present  stage,  full  liberty  is 
a  right  which  it  is  just  for  them  to  claim,  or  which 
it  would  be  safe  to  grant  them.  To  be  free  to  say 
what  one  likes  and  to  do  what  one  likes  is  not  the 
great  matter :  but,  as  Matthew  Arnold  has  re- 
minded us,  the  great  matter  is  that  what  one  says 
and  does  when  free  shall  be  worthy  and  fitting. 
Meanwhile  the  very  facts  of  education  and  of  civil- 
ization are  standing  proofs  that  only  by  learning 
to  obey  can  men  attain  to  a  condition  in  which 
freedom  is  safe  in  their  hands.  Premature  freedom 
is  both  a  dangerous  and  a  costly  gift. 

So  this  prodigal  had  claimed  his  freedom  before 
he  was  capable  of  managing  it,  and  it  had  utterly 
wrecked  his  life.  Now  he  is,  as  well  he  may  be, 
afraid  of  it,  afraid  to  trust  himself. 

Me  this  nnohartered  freedom  tires ; 
I  feel  the  weight  of  chance-desires. 

He  genuinely  and  ardently  longs  for  some  one  to 
control  him,  and  it  is  this  change  of  heart  that  re- 
deems the  incident.  Otherwise  the  return,  as  a 
last  resort  when  all  else  is  impossible,  bears  the 
inevitable  stamp  of  meanness.  While  the  prodigal 
is  still  confident  and  cheerful  about  his  prospects 
of  living  a  better  life  in  future,  the  case  is  hopeless. 
But  the  meanest  return  as  a  last  resort  when  all 
else  has  failed,  is  redeemed  from  its  meanness  by 
that  loss  of  self-confidence  which  is  the  test  of  true 
repentance. 


278         WEAEINESS  OF  EESPONSIBILITY 

Here,  his  confidence  is  broken  indeed.  His 
shame  has  led  to  a  complete  self-distrust.  Mr. 
Huxley  expressed  the  wish  that  he  could  be  wound 
up  each  day  like  a  watch,  and  so  be  sure  of  going 
rightly.  Such  a  wish  cannot  indeed  form  a  standard 
for  any  normal  condition  of  life.  A  far  more 
normal  standard  is  Emerson's  injunction,  ''Trust thy- 
self," which  we  have  already  quoted.  But  here  the 
words  of  the  shamed  adventurer  are  natural  and 
right.  They  are  the  expression  of  that  passionate 
longing  for  a  master  and  a  guide  which  comes  when 
shame  has  brought  distrust  of  self.  The  prodigal, 
desire  for  a  better  life,  can  find  no  hope  of  it  but 
in  a  stronger  will  and  a  sounder  judgment  than  his 
own  to  come  between  him  and  temptation.  His 
heart  cries  out  the  cry  of  the  humble : — 

Shew  me  what  I  have  to  do ; 
Every  hour  my  strength  renew. 

This  then  is  the  mood  of  the  returning  prodigal, 
who  has  his  speech  prepared  for  the  meeting  with 
his  father.  But  that  speech  was  never  uttered. 
Our  programmes  of  religious  experience  are  never 
carried  out  literally.  There  is  a  better  way  than 
we  in  our  shame  had  thought  of,  for  God  is  always 
better  than  our  thoughts,  or  even  our  desires. 
When  father  and  son  have  met,  there  is  no  longer 
any  word  of  hired  servants.  Fear,  shame,  distrust 
of  self,  the  burden  of  responsibility,  are  all  swallowed 
up  in  love.     One  sight  of  the  father's  face,  the  great 


WEAKINESS  OF  KESPONSIBILITY        279 

embrace  of  the  beloved  arm  thrown  around  his 
rags,  the  tears  that  fall  upon  his  neck — these  settle 
all  the  problems  which  in  cold  blood  we  settle 
otherwise. 

Love  took  up  the  harp  of  Life,  and  smote  on  all  the  chords  with 

might ; 
Smote  the  chord  of  Self,  that,  trembling,  pass'd  in  music  out  of 

sight. 

Self-distrust  even  has  passed,  for  love  has  found 
a  natural  and  happy  solution.  No  hard  responsi- 
bilities, to  which  our  moral  character  is  inadequate, 
are  thrust  upon  us  ;  no  unbearable  lonely  freedom  is 
given  us  to  manage  rightly.  The  responsibilities  of 
life  in  the  father's  house  are  different  from  those  of 
the  far  country.  For  the  father  is  there,  and  we 
have  learned  at  last  to  love  him,  and  that  love  has 
become  a  far  more  commanding  law  than  hired 
service  can  ever  know. 

That  is  the  beautiful  old  story,  and  there  are 
multitudes  who  to-day  understand  it  only  too  well. 
Their  adventure  in  life  has  not  been  successful,  and 
now  a  great  longing  has  come  upon  them  for  rest 
from  responsibilities  which  they  have  failed  to  meet. 

Some  come  to  this  when  sin  has  proved  vain. 
They  have  tried  self-will,  and  refused  to  follow  the 
precepts  by  which  others  live.  At  last  they  have 
found  out  what  incompetent  fools  they  were,  and 
how  impossible  a  matter  life  becomes  when  it  has 
revolted  against  its  ancient  laws.     This  is  an  in- 


280         WEAEINESS  OF  EESPONSIBILITY 

evitable  element  in  true  shame  and  penitence.  Life 
has  proved  too  much  for  them.  Its  very  positions 
of  honour  and  of  trust  condemn  them,  as  they 
realize  their  failure,  and  they  are  overwhelmed  by 
a  hopeless  sense  of  their  own  moral  and  spiritual 
inadequacy. 

Others  reach  this  state  of  mind  rather  from  a 
sense  of  the  sheer  difficulty  of  the  situation.  Their 
constitution  and  their  circumstances  are  not  equal 
to  the  tasks  they  have  to  face.  Life  grows  more 
and  more  perplexing,  and  its  responsibilities  more 
burdensome.  They  have  come  to  this  that  they 
often  cannot  tell  the  right  course  from  the  wrong  ; 
and  now  they  are  too  tired  to  face  the  situation  and 
are  utterly  depressed  by  the  sense  of  their  own  in- 
capacity. 

At  such  times  the  soul  cries  out  for  a  master  and 
a  law.  Give  us  our  orders  and  we  shall  obey 
them.  Let  the  command  be  definite,  the  direction 
unmistakable,  and  we  shall  not  rebel.  However 
hard  the  conditions  may  be,  they  cannot  be  so  in- 
tolerable as  the  weary  and  futile  attempt  to  choose 
and  govern. 

But  God  insists.  He  will  give  no  external  law 
written  on  tables  of  stone.  He  will  write  his  laws 
only  on  our  hearts.  He  will  not  call  us  servants 
even  in  answer  to  our  prayers.  He  has  called  us 
friends  and  sons  of  his  household,  and  he  will 
iiot  consent  to  any  less  honourable  relation. 


WEAKINESS  OF  EESPONSIBILITY        281 

But  then  the  love  which  Christ  brings  and  re- 
veals makes  all  the  difference.  That  love  is  in- 
deed the  fulfilling  of  the  law,  as  all  those  that  are 
labouring  and  heavy  laden  may  discover.  They  are 
not  indeed  permitted  to  lay  down  their  burdens, 
but  they  find  God  bearing  their  burdens  with  them. 
Love  changes  the  look  and  the  feeling  of  all  things. 
No  responsibility  is  intolerable  when  in  the  Father 
we  have  found  also  the  Master  and  the  Guide. 
Under  that  lordship  of  love — full  of  allowances, 
rich  in  encouragement,  tender  with  compassion — 
we  can  find  heart  to  face  anything  that  life  sets 
before  us. 


THE  HERITAGE  OF  FEAR 

{All  Saints) 

"Thou  hast  given  me  the  heritage  of  those  that  fear  Thy  name." 
— Psalm  lxi.  5. 

There  is  a  continuity  in  the  history  of  religion 
which  binds  together  the  most  widely  diverse  ages 
and  types  of  thought.  Each  phase,  with  its  peculiar 
emphasis,  exists  not  only  for  the  truth  it  can  declare 
and  the  character  it  can  produce  at  the  time,  but 
also  for  its  contribution  of  permanent  elements  to 
the  growing  faith. 

There  is  nothing  so  characteristic  of  primitive  re- 
ligious ideas  as  fear.  ''Terror  is  everywhere  the 
beginning  of  religion,"  and  the  process  by  which 
terror  is  exchanged  for  reasonable  and  loving  com- 
munion is  one  of  the  most  instructive  studies  in  the 
world.  Science  has  its  part  in  this  process,  reduc- 
ing steadily  the  region  of  the  unknown,  where  man's 
terrors  mainly  dwell.  But  religion  is  the  supreme 
agent  of  enfranchisement,  and  while  growing  know- 
ledge is  steadily  reducing  fear,  perfect  love  will 
ultimately  cast  it  out.     In  the  Old  Testament  we 

see  this  increasing  emancipation.     Fear  of  God  is 

(282) 


THE  HEKITAGE  OF  FEAE  283 

the  obvious  background,  but  with  increasing  fre- 
quency and  boldness  the  voice  of  prophecy  cries  to 
man  ''  Fear  not ".  The  same  process  may  be  dis- 
cerned in  later  times,  with  their  transition  from 
the  gloomy  and  spectral  night  of  mediaeval  dogmas 
to  the  daylight  of  the  reformation,  and  again  from 
the  harsher  and  more  judicial  forms  of  sixteenth- 
century  doctrine  to  the  kindly  light  of  God's  father- 
hood which  is  the  characteristic  form  of  faith  to-day. 

But  nothing  which  has  entered  into  the  faith  and 
been  a  vital  element  in  the  Christianity  of  strong 
men  of  the  past,  has  ever  been  in  vain  ;  nor  have 
any  such  superseded  elements  ever  been  wholly 
discarded.  They  enter  into  the  very  essence  of  the 
faith  and  give  to  its  future  forms  some  of  their 
richest  and  most  valuable  qualities.  Fear  is  gone, 
in  its  crude  and  ancient  sense,  but  the  heritage  of 
fear  is  among  the  most  priceless  parts  of  our  in- 
heritance from  the  past. 

The  inheritance  of  fear  is  manifold.  It  is  worth 
our  while  to  examine  it  in  some  detail : — 

1.  Fear  itself  persisthig, — Fear,  we  said,  is 
gone  ;  but  that  can  never  be  completely  true.  It  is 
a  dangerous  world,  whose  territories  are  but  half- 
explored  as  yet,  and  he  must  be  but  a  foolish 
traveller  who  walks  on  light-heartedly  with  his  eyes 
on  the  clouds.  The  consequences  of  wandering  and 
of  stumbling  are  manifest  continually  in  the  dooms 
of  the  lost  and  the  fallen.     Science  has  conquered 


284  THE  HEKITAGE  OF  FEAE 

superstition,  and  civilization  has  cleared  the  road  of 
life  from  many  dangers  that  formerly  beset  it.  Yet 
the  result  of  this  has  only  been  to  make  men  realize 
more  fully  the  tremendous  seriousness  of  the  physi- 
cal and  social  consequences  of  evil,  and  so  to  con- 
centrate fear  in  the  region  of  inward  rather  than  in 
that  of  outward  dangers.  Here  the  most  recent 
science  is  at  one  with  the  most  ancient  religion, 
and  the  Greek  tragedies  and  Hebrew  judgments 
are  seen  even  more  inexorably  than  of  old  working 
themselves  out  in  our  modern  hospitals  and  labora- 
tories. For  the  wise  man,  human  life  is  still  ringed 
round  with  dangers  of  which  he  is  aware,  and  which 
he  is  wise  enough  to  fear.  And  his  religion  will 
still  bear  the  mark  of  this.  Religion  deals  with 
things  as  they  are,  not  with  things  as  our  desires 
or  fancies  paint  them.  There  is  no  use  in  trying 
to  adapt  Christian  faith  to  light-minded  people,  or 
to  translate  the  thunders  of  Sinai  or  the  voices 
from  the  Cross  into  the  language  of  little  souls.  A 
religion  that  did  not  retain  some  elements  of  fear 
would  ipso  facto  disprove  itself. 

2.  Fear  has  a  rich  inheritance  for  the  future,  and 
when  a  people  has  ceased  to  fear  it  has  little  to  hand 
on.  Its  children  are  born  bankrupt  of  much  that  has 
made  life  most  worth  living  to  the  past.  Without 
the  depths  of  repentance  or  the  heights  of  rever- 
ence, such  an  age  may  call  itself  Augustan,  but  it  is 
hastening  towards  the  revolution.    But  the  elements 


THE  HEEITAGE  OF  FEAE  285 

of  fear  that  enter  into  any  generation's  thoughts  of 
God  appear  in  the  next  generation  for  the  most  part 
in  new  forms.  By  the  same  strange  alchemy  of 
God,  which  changes  the  decay  and  death  of  this  year 
into  the  fruitful  harvests  of  next,  the  fears  of  the 
past  are  changed  into  the  knowledge  and  character 
of  the  future. 

Knowledge  is  part  of  the  heritage  of  fear.  The 
work  of  science  is  obviously  this  transmutation. 
The  fears  of  to-day  spur  men  on  to  acquire  the 
knowledge  of  to-morrow,  and  most  knowledge  is 
thus  literally  the  heritage  of  fear.  But  still  more 
profoundly  is  this  true  of  that  knowledge  of  God 
which  is  the  essential  element  in  religion.  The 
good-humoured  little  gods  of  modern  Bohemia 
and  modern  Philistia  are  very  pretty,  but  they  are 
not  real.  If  men  know  the  true  God  at  all  to-day, 
that  knowledge  was  found  for  them  by  former 
men  who  feared.  If  we  know  Him  more  humanly 
than  the  fathers,  at  least  let  us  not  forget  that  all 
that  is  greatest  in  our  thoughts  of  Him  came  to  us 
from  them. 

Character y  too,  is  part  of  our  heritage  of  fear. 
Character  is  a  very  complex  thing.  It  cannot  be 
created  within  one  or  even  many  generations.  It 
is  built  up  and  enriched  by  countless  elements 
which  have  entered  into  it  in  the  past,  which  have 
been  absorbed,  and  disappeared  only  to  reappear 
in  the  richer  and  finer  quality  of  the  character  of 


286  THE  HEEITAGE  OF  FEAE 

future  ideals.  In  a  light  age  there  is  much  talk 
about  love  and  joy,  but  often  these  are  slight,  facile, 
and  ineffective.  The  only  joy  and  love  that  are 
trustworthy  are  those  which  spring  from  roots 
struck  deep  into  the  soil  of  the  past,  where  they 
fed  on  sterner  virtues.  The  element  of  fear  out  of 
which  it  grew  gives  to  joy  the  qualities  of  repose, 
permanence,  and  gentleness :  to  love  it  gives  a  rich 
and  passionate  depth,  a  strength  and  patience 
which  were  impossible  without  it. 

3.  Deliverance  from  Fear. — Courage  itself,  and  an 
unshaken  and  habitual  fearlessness,  are  part  of  the 
heritage  of  fear.  There  is  no  sure  or  worthy  de- 
liverance from  fear  but  through  fear.  By  dealing 
reverently  with  the  thought  and  conscience  of  the 
past,  by  full  realization  of  the  awfulness  both  of 
human  nature  and  of  God,  fear  may  pass  into  joy 
and  love  that  retain  the  notes  of  reverence  and  of 
steadfastness  in  our  religion.  It  has  been  said  that 
the  land  is  blessed  which  has  no  history.  In  truth 
that  land  is  more  blessed  that  has  a  history,  graved 
in  the  iron  rock.  But  once  fear  has  been  trans- 
formed into  reverent  joy  and  steadfast  love,  we  find 
ourselves  delivered  from  all  that  manifold  bondage 
and  torment  which  beset  the  life  that  has  dealt  less 
thoroughly  with  the  ancient  terrors.  In  a  word, 
the  choice  is  offered  us  between  one  great  fear  and 
a  thousand  little  ones  ;  between  the  fear  of  God,  and 
countless  fears  of  evil,  of  to-morrow,  of  yesterday. 


THE  HEKITAGE  OF  FEAK  287 

of  our  fellow-men,  and  of  the  mysterious  region 
within  the  shadow  of  death. 

Thus  by  fear  we  may  escape  from  fear.  "  Live 
out  the  best  that's  in  thee,  and  thou  art  done  with 
fears"— it  is  a  great  and  true  saying.  But  that 
"  best  that's  in  thee  "  includes  God  in  thee.  Face 
Him  and  settle  the  issues  of  life  with  Him— then 
there  is  nothing  left  to  fear.  The  great  art  of  re- 
ligion is  that  of  centring  all  our  fear  in  God.  Fear 
is  then  lost  in  reverent  love  and  trust,  and  the 
world  around  is  swept  clear  of  terrors.  For 
such  a  man  dreads  nothing  but  the  loss  of  the  God 
he  loves;  he  has  now  no  longer  any  hesitation 
about  ''  making  the  devil  his  enemy,"  nor  bidding 
defiance  to  the  trooping  shadows  of  conscience  and 
of  mortality.  For  his  faith  no  longer  floats  loosely 
on  the  surface  of  his  dreams  and  his  desires,  but 
has  reached  bottom,  and  rests  on  the  nether  rock. 
Such  is  the  final  heritage  of  them  that  fear  God's 
name. 


THi:  CI_irvi  OF  GOD 
{AS  Souls) 

"All  xjuls  ire  mine.'' — Zzzxizz  i— n.  i. 

The  Bible  is  full  of  th.e  _.r_„_i  for  serrice  :o  Goi 
the  demand  for  servT«?e  resting  on  the  fact  of  owner- 
dt^.  Two  out  c :  z:  :  v  j  passa^jes  may  be  taken 
along  winh.  tiie  text.  In  Isiiiah  xlhl  1.  we  have 
the  words,  "Fear  not.  f:^  I  i.i-re  redeemed  thee,  I 
hare  called  thee  by  th~  2  -jiif  :  thou  art  mine/' 
^oken  by  ^'  the  Lord  that  created  thee  .  .  .  Htth 
that  formed  thee  ^  The  grand  idea  of  the  servant 
of  Jehovah,  traceii  back  through  a  wonderful  his- 
tory of  redemption,  ends  thus  in  the  thought  of 
creation:  and  the  naming  of  Jacob  asserts  that 
individual  and  particular  client-relation  wUcb 
is  so  characteristic  of  Hebrew  reKgion  and  so 
rich  in  meaning  and  suggestion"^.  The  oth^* 
passage  occurs  in  Acts  xxvil  23,  when  Pant  dur- 
ing the  shipwreck,  speaks  of  "  God,  whose  I  am, 
and  whom  I  serve ''.  At  such  a  time  as  that,  the 
question.  Whose  am  I  ?  is  of  first  importance  In 
fair  weather  we  are  tempted  to  claim  our  souls  and 

bodies  for  our  own ;   but  when  the  timbers  are 

(288) 


THE  CLAIM  OF  GOD  289 

starting,  and  the  ship  is  driven  before  the  tempest, 
we  are  fain  to  renounce  the  ownership  of  property 
we  are  so  helpless  to  defend.  If  at  such  a  time  a 
man  knows  that  he  belongs  to  God,  then  the  winds 
and  waves  matter  little,  and  the  impressionable 
sailor-men  feel  the  power  and  shelter  of  one  who 
knows  whose  he  is. 

Nowadays,  when  every  one  is  proclaiming  his 
"  inalienable  rights,"  and  with  loud  voice  asserting 
his  claim  on  life,  the  other  question,  as  to  who  has  a 
claim  to  us,  is  often  forgotten.  Yet  it  is  the  more 
important,  and  even  the  more  practical  question  of 
the  two.  Disciples  of  culture  speak  much  of  ''  ful- 
filling oneself "  and  "  obeying  one's  nature,"  but 
they  do  not  always  realize  that  the  very  essence 
of  such  fulfilment  and  obedience  is  to  find  one's 
master.  Genius  has  been  often  defined,  but  no 
definition  is  satisfactory  that  does  not  include  a 
sense  of  mysterious  ownership.  The  supreme 
touches  of  the  artist,  which  change  his  picture 
suddenly  from  death  to  life,  are  in  a  real  sense  the 
coming  of  the  Holy  Ghost  upon  him.  He  is  no 
longer  his  own  man  ;  he  is  for  the  moment  "  car- 
ried," possessed.  So  it  is  in  music,  in  craftsmanship, 
in  speech.  It  is  not  in  any  pride  or  self-sufficiency 
that  a  man  can  ever  achieve  the  highest  greatness. 
It  is  when  "by  stooping  we  climb  to  His  feet". 
The  man  may  not  know  what  has  happened  when 

his  work  leaps  thus  towards  the  ideal  of  beauty  or 

19 


290  THE  CLAIM  OF  GOD 

truth,  or  perfection.  Really  it  is  the  claim  of  God, 
who  stoops  over  his  workman  and  whispers  to  his 
soul,  ''  Thou  art  mine  ". 

There  are,  however,  rival  claimants  for  the  souls 
of  men,  and  each  of  these  may,  by  the  soul's  con- 
sent, put  forward  a  claim  that  life  will  honour.  Not 
Judas  only,  but  every  man  born,  goes  at  last  to  his 
own  place. 

1.  The  ivorld, — Life  begins  in  an  unworldly  sim- 
plicity which  accepts  the  situation  without  thought, 
But  as  childhood  passes  into  youth,  the  world 
becomes  more  and  more  a  shining  and  alluring 
fascination.  The  joy  of  life,  the  "green  fire"  of 
nature,  press  their  demands.  The  intoxication  of 
the  "  crowded  hour  of  glorious  life  "  proclaims  and 
presses  the  imperative  of  earth.  At  first  earth 
woos  the  soul  surreptitiously,  fawningly,  whispering 
"  Be  thou  mine  ".  With  hardly  a  flicker  of  definite 
consciousness  or  will,  the  soul  answers  "  Yes,  dear 
earth,  I  am  thine  ".  Until  the  man  appears  with 
his  shameless  creed  of  following  his  nature,  subject 
to  no  other  will. 

Such  a  man  has  mortgaged  his  destiny.  To  be 
claimed  by  the  world  and  to  lose  the  faculty  of 
escape  from  it  is  the  ghastliest  of  all  dooms.  For 
the  sweet  voice  that  says  ''  Thou  art  mine  "  changes 
its  tone.  It  loses  its  softness  and  becomes  terrify- 
ing, until  at  length  its  hoarse  reiteration  sounds  the 
knell  of  the  dying  aspirations  of  the  spirit.     In  his 


THE  CLAIM  OF  GOD  291 

Easter  Dwy,  Kobert  Browning  has  shown  that  ap- 
palhng  transition  from  delight  through  satiety  to 
despair.  Nothing  could  be  more  dreadful  than  the 
sickening  return  of  the  days,  when  the  soul  that 
has  lost  taste  for  all  but  earthly  things,  at  last 
grows  sick  of  them ;  when  the  swine  before  which 
we  have  thrown  our  pearls,  turn  again  and  rend  us. 

2.  Sin. — There  are  in  some  lands,  beautiful  green 
spots  that  promise  refreshment  to  the  weary  tra- 
veller, but  he  lingers  on  them  to  his  death,  for  their 
beauty  is  poisoned.  So  he  who  grants  the  claim  of 
the  world  finds  that  it  leads  directly  to  a  further 
claim  and  a  lower.  You  never  meant  to  pledge 
yourself  to  more  than  pleasure,  but  you  find  your- 
self before  you  are  aware  committed  to  sin.  Like 
the  man  in  Victor  Hugo's  story,  it  was  the  cave 
you  wanted,  but  the  devil-fish  wanted  you.  Sin, 
once  committed,  claims  a  man.  He  has  sold  him- 
self, and  he  belongs  to  sin.  This  is  no  imaginary 
horror,  it  is  happening  around  us  every  day.  There 
are  men  everywhere  who  are  surfeited  with  sin  and 
yet  committing  it.  They  chose  it  lightly,  and  now 
they  are  filled  with  their  own  way.  The  sin  they 
loved  once  they  have  long  hated,  but  they  do  it 
still. 

3.  Death. — The  surefooted  shadow  of  death 
comes  on  at  a  measured  interval  after  sin,  and  when 
sin  has  done  with  a  man  it  leaves  him  to  this  next 
claimant.     It  is  no  theological  fiction,  but  a  patent 


292  THE  CLAIM  OF  GOD 

fact  of  life,  that  "  the  soul  that  sinneth  it  shall  die  ". 
Sin  is  the  sting  of  death,  the  paralysing  sting,  that 
leaves  a  man's  heart  and  conscience  and  will 
flaccid,  helpless,  with  no  power  to  stand  nor  to 
resist.  Sorrow,  disappointment,  and  death  come  to 
all,  but  only  to  the  unforgiven  soul  do  they  come  with 
a  claim.  Dehemur  morti — we  are  due  to  death. 
There  is  no  use  of  rebelling  when  with  heads  down 
they  are  marched  off  to  that  which  claims  them — 
their  lord  the  worm. 

That  is  life,  not  as  religion  makes  it,  but  as  it 
finds  it.  What  then  can  religion  do  for  so  dire  a 
situation  ?  It  sounds  out  a  new  claim,  challenging 
all  the  rest.  ''To  be  the  property  of  God  is  the 
essence  of  religion ".  So  the  form  of  this  divine 
claimant  strides  in  upon  our  ruined  human  life 
with  His  great  voice,  "  All  souls  are  Mine  ".  The 
world  hears  it,  that  pleasure-house  that  has  be- 
come a  prison ;  and  He  breaks  its  gates  of  brass, 
and  cuts  its  bars  of  iron  in  sunder.  And  the  world, 
where  once  stood  the  prison-house,  becomes  the 
garden  of  the  Lord.  Sin  and  Death  hear  the  foot- 
fall and  the  voice.  They  drop  their  victim  and 
flee  away,  and  remorse  and  temptation  follow  in 
their  train.  "  The  wages  of  sin  is  death,  but  the  gift 
of  God  is  eternal  life." 

You  who  have  sold  your  souls  for  naught  until 
now  the  habits  of  your  sins  have  bound  you ;  you 
who  are  surfeited  with  earth,  and  to  whom  the 


THE  CLAIM  OF  GOD  293 

thought  of  things  above  this  world  has  become  a 
fainter  and  fainter  dream ;  you,  whose  bodies  and 
souls  have  felt  the  growing  tyranny  of  sin,  and 
whose  eyes  have  caught  sight  of  Death,  waiting 
visibly  for  your  coming — listen  to  that  great  voice, 
''All  souls  are  Mine — your  soul  is  Mine."  The 
key  of  your  soul  hangs  at  God's  girdle.  You  be- 
long inalienably  to  Him. 

There  is  the  solution  of  the  whole  ghastly  mystery 
of  life.  However  terribly  those  former  claimants 
may  have  fastened  their  hold  upon  you,  they  have 
no  right  to  you,  for  you  are  God's.  From  the  first, 
deep  in  the  hearts  of  them,  men  have  known  that 
this  was  so.  Even  the  classic  heroes  proclaimed 
themselves  under  the  protection  of  a  god.  The 
faith  of  Israel  set  men  free  by  publishing  the  claim 
of  Jehovah.  But  not  till  Christ  had  come  did  that 
divine  claim  reach  its  full  power  and  winsomeness. 
There  was  that  about  Him  which  seemed  always 
to  claim  men  for  His  own.  It  is  only  those  who  do 
not  know  Him  that  can  criticize  Him.  When  you 
know  Him  there  is  nothing  for  it  but  to  be  His.  By 
His  life  and  by  His  death,  by  His  speech  and  by 
His  deeds,  by  His  infinite  compassion  and  His 
mighty  power  to  save,  Christ  claims  us  for  His  own. 

To  obey  that  claim  is  to  reach  a  new  thought  of 
life's  responsibiHties  that  will  stand  a  man  in  good 
stead  through  evil  days.  "  The  lighthouse  keeper 
on  his  rock  sits  in  his  solitude  and  watches  his  little 


294  THE  CLAIM  OF  GOD 

flame.  Why  does  he  not  let  it  die  away  in  the  night 
as  other  lights  in  the  distance  die  ?  Because  it  is 
not  his  light.  He  is  its  keeper,  not  its  owner. 
The  great  power  that  watches  that  stormy  coast 
has  set  him  there,  and  he  must  be  true."  So  does 
the  man  who  knows  Christ's  claim  ujjon  him  stand 
on  the  high  vantage-ground  of  life.  The  tides  of 
the  world  surge  around  him,  the  blasts  of  sin  and 
the  cold  rain  of  death  beat  upon  his  tower.  They 
would  claim  him  for  their  own  and  quench  his  light 
of  life.  But  the  light  shines  on,  for  there  is  another 
who  has  said  to  his  soul,  "  Thou  art  Mine  ". 


THE  RELIGION  OF  HUMANITY 

"Jesus  went  forth,  and  saw  a  great  multitude,  and  was  moved 
with  compassion  toward  them." — St.  Matthew  xiv.  14. 

Nothing  is  of  more  importance  than  the  love  of 
humanity  as  a  whole.  Many  thinkers  of  the  last 
and  the  present  centuries  make  this  the  central  de- 
mand, and  indeed  the  one  essential  principle,  alike 
of  morals  and  religion.  Indeed  this  love  of  collec- 
tive humanity  has,  by  a  strange  irony  of  fate,  be- 
come the  chief  rival  of  Christianity.  The  old 
individualism  of  our  love  one  to  another,  and  in  its 
idealized  form  of  our  love  to  God  or  Christ,  has 
been  superseded  by  this  wider  and  more  general 
command  of  affection,  "  Write  me  as  one  who  loved 
his  fellow-men  ". 

No  one  denies  the  generosity  and  the  beauty  of 
such  an  ideal,  nor  do  we  in  any  degree  underrate 
the  value  of  it.  Yet  our  heart  sinks  as  we  draw 
nearer,  for  we  find  that  it  is  precisely  the  most  im- 
possible of  all  demands.  The  plain  and  brutal 
truth  is,  as  Mr.  Mallock  has  pointed  out,  that  the 
great  majority  of  our  fellow-men  are  not  in  the 
least  degree  interesting  to  any  of  us.     We  do  not 

know  them,  nor  has  our  imagination  any  hold  upon 

(295) 


296  THE  EELIGION  OF  HUMANITY 

them  whatever.     An  accident  involving  death  and 
suffering  varies  in  its  interest  for   us   in  inverse 
ratio  to  the  distance  of  its  scene  from  our  familiar 
region.      The  same   thing   is  true   of   distance  in 
time.     We  are  told  to  live  for  posterity,  and  in  a 
general  way  we  consent  to  legislate  in  view  of  far- 
reaching    effects,   and    cherish   public    sentiments 
against  the  obvious  propagation  of  disease  and  so 
forth.     But  how  rare  is  any  actual  self-denial  in 
view  of  the  needs  of  far-distant  generations.     How 
few  of  us  think  of  our  successors  beyond,  say,  the 
third  generation,  with  imagination  of  the  fact  that 
they  will  have  to  face  the  same  temptations,  dangers, 
and  necessities  which  we  are  facing,  and  that  the 
results  of  our  conduct  will  be  of  immense  moment 
to  their  lives.    In  this  diminishing  intensity  of  com- 
passion, we  see  love  running  to  waste  in  collective 
humanity  (and  the  leakage  is  not  stopped  by  spell- 
ing Humanity  with  a  capital  letter),  filtering  away 
among  the  multitude  until  it  disappears.     Evidently 
what  is  wanted  is  a  love  of  men  that  shall  be  backed 
by  powers  of  imagination  and  sympathy  which  we 
must  simply  acknowledge  that  we  do  not  possess. 
But  the  Christ  of  Christian  faith  did  possess  such 
powers,  and  He  has  laid  the  conscience  of  them  on 
the  world.     He  had  compassion  on  the  multitude. 
Every  life  interested  Him,  distant  as  well  as  near. 
It  is  a  curious  question  how  far  this  comprehending 
imaginative   sympathy  extended,  what  limits   His 


THE  EELIGION  OF  HUMANITY  297 

human  nature  must  have  set  to  its  scope.  Yet  in 
any  case  it  is  evident  that  here  we  have  an  alto- 
gether unheard-of  stretch  of  sympathetic  insight. 
It  is  indeed  this  fact  that  lies  in  the  depths  of  any 
intelligent  doctrine  of  substitution — an  illimitable 
pov^er  of  putting  himself  in  the  place  of  others  so 
as  to  be  in  any  true  sense  ''  the  propitiation  for  our 
sins ;  and  not  for  ours  only,  but  also  for  the  sins  of 
the  vrhole  world  ". 

This  compassion  still  lives  on,  and  is  as  powerful 
to-day  as  at  the  first.  Cicero  confesses  that,  with 
the  writings  of  Plato  before  him,  he  can  feel  the 
thrill  of  the  hope  of  immortality  ;  but  when  the 
book  is  closed,  the  ideals  fade  into  thin  ghosts 
again.  But  it  is  not  so  with  Jesus.  The  most  potent 
of  all  the  forces  of  salvation  at  the  present  hour  is 
the  conviction  held  by  great  multitudes  of  men  that 
Jesus  still  understands  their  perplexities,  and  bears 
upon  His  heart  their  burdens  of  sorrow  and  of  sin. 
The  only  tolerable  justification  for  the  continued 
existence  of  the  Christian  Church  is  the  persuasion 
that  Jesus  is  now  incarnate  in  it  for  the  same  ends 
of  compassion  and  of  healing.  The  function  of  the 
Church  is  compassion  for  the  multitude— to  seek 
out  and  to  understand  and  to  save  the  individual. 
To  distinguish  him  from  the  mass,  and  look  upon 
his  sorrow  and  his  sin  ;  to  discover  and  to  pity  the 
average  man,  to  love  him,  and  to  find  out  that 
bright  point  in  him  which  is  not  commonplace,  and 


298  THE  EELIGION  OF  HUMANITY 

to  draw  out  the  best  that  is  in  him.  No  service  to 
society  could  be  more  economically  valuable  than 
that,  and  the  Church  may  justly  claim  to  have  per- 
formed that  service  more  than  any  other  agency. 
It  wsiS  Christ  who  taught  the  world  the  lovableness 
of  the  average  man,  and  it  is  Christ  who  is  slowly 
leavening  society  with  the  same  conviction.  No 
further  question  is  needed  to  awaken  compassion 
for  the  lowest  of  men  than  this,  that  he  is  ''my 
churl  for  whom  Christ  died  '. 

Surely  here  we  have  something  absolutely  divine. 
This  universal  care  and  tenderness  inevitably  send 
us  back  upon  that  God  who  created  natural  affec- 
tion. Those  eyes  that  thus  search  the  world,  that 
search  history,  and  discover  the  souls  of  countless 
insignificant  individuals,  and  bring  them  out  into 
the  light  of  love — surely  such  scrutiny  is  beyond 
the  range  of  human  vision.  The  longer  we  con- 
sider it,  the  more  we  think  of  the  all-seeing  eye  of 
God.  At  first  sight  it  may  seem  a  far-fetched 
apologetic,  but  it  will  bear  reflection.  There  is 
no  question  that  an  increasing  compassion  for  the 
multitude,  and  an  increasing  conscience  of  their 
well-being  has  come  upon  man  through  Jesus 
Christ,  and  it  would  be  difficult  to  find  anything 
more  expressly  revealing  the  image  of  the  Father. 
If  there  were  to  be  a  revelation  at  all,  surely  it 
must  be  something  of  this  sort,  so  pre-eminently 
Godlike  is  Christ's  compassion  for  the  multitude. 


THE  EELIGION  OP  HUMANITY  299 

Thus  we  find  that  the  Gospel  of  Humanity  and 
the  Christian  faith,  so  far  from  being  rivals,  are 
actually  one  and  the  same.  Until  Christ  came,  the 
love  of  humanity  was  no  more  than  a  theoretical 
and  high-sounding  subject  for  dialectic  or  for  dream. 
It  was  He  who  changed  it  into  an  actual  force  in 
the  world,  and  set  its  strong  leaven  working  in  the 
race.  It  had  to  work  against  innumerable  pre- 
judices and  hatreds  between  individuals,  classes, 
and  nations.  Still  more  serious  was  its  opposition 
from  the  dead  mass  of  selfish  indifference  which 
might  well  have  seemed  unconquerable.  As  a 
matter  of  fact  it  has  not  yet  conquered  more  than 
small  and  isolated  parts  of  the  field.  But  it  is  at 
work.  Man  is  already  ashamed  of  his  class  hatreds 
and  apologetic  about  his  indifference,  and  every- 
thing which  calls  itself  a  Gospel  of  Humanity  is  at 
least  sure  of  a  sympathetic  hearing. 

But  when  any  such  Gospel  disowns  its  origin, 
and  poses  as  a  new  thing  better  than  Christianity 
and  about  to  supersede  it,  that  Gospel  is  cutting 
itself  off  from  its  own  sources  of  supply.  Without 
the  inspiration  of  Christ,  it  will  soon  cease  to  be  of 
anything  but  an  academic  interest.  For  the  simple 
fact  is  that  we  need  Christ  in  order  to  love  collective 
humanity  and  to  discover  the  lovableness  of  its 
innumerable  individuals.  "It  is  because  Christ 
lived  that  I  believe  in  humanity,"  as  Mrs.  Lynn 
Linton  told  an  earlier  generation  of  humanitarians. 


300  THE  EELIGION  OF  HUMANITY 

And  indeed  Christ  is  far  easier  to  believe  in.  It 
requires  the  mysterious  power  of  His  personality, 
the  force  of  His  example,  and  the  compulsion  of  His 
Spirit  to  enable  men  to  have  compassion  on  the 
multitude  in  any  adequate  or  effective  sense.  We 
can  love  the  world  so  as  to  save  it,  only  so  long  as 
we  are  convinced  by  Jesus  Christ  that  God  so  loved 
the  world. 


THE  FURTHER  SIDE  OF  VICTORY 

"More  than  conquerors." — Eomans  viii.  37. 

No  metaphor  is  more  popular  than  that  which 
represents  life  as  a  battle,  nor  is  any  exhortation 
more  certain  to  stir  our  blood  than  the  call  to 
victory.  Yet  conquest  is  not  the  Christian  ideal. 
It  is  a  richer  promise  which  Christ  offers : — 

And  there  the  sunset  skies  unseal'd, 

Like  lands  he  never  knew, 
Beyond  to-morrow's  battle-field, 

Lay  open  out  to  view 
To  ride  into. 

At  first  this  seems  overdrawn,  but  the  more  we 
think  of  it  the  more  convincing  it  is.  Even  for  its 
own  sake,  Christianity  would  need  to  have  a  higher 
promise  than  mere  conquest.  In  many  fields,  vic- 
tory is  to  be  had  otherwise.  Every  man  who  does 
his  work  is  a  conqueror,  and  the  world  is  full  of 
such  men.  For  our  sakes  also,  mere  conquest  is  not 
enough.  Ascetic  Christianity  may  give  a  man  the 
cheerless  mastery  over  himself,  which  is  yet  very 
far  from  the  gaining  of  the  ideal  life.  And  for  the 
sake  of  others  we  must  be  more  than  conquerors. 

(301) 


302        THE  FUKTHEE  SIDE  OF  VICTORY 

All  conquerors,  in  fact,  are  bound  to  be  more  than 
conquerors.  Those  who  do  not  accept  the  stern 
condition  will  soon  lose  even  that  which  they  have 
gained.  After  conquest  come  higher  responsi- 
bilities, for  in  the  battle  with  evil  either  within 
our  souls  or  around  us,  we  must  redeem  that  which 
we  have  overcome.  It  is  not  enough  to  make  a 
desolation  and  call  it  peace.  Life  must  cease  to  be 
our  enemy  and  become  our  friend.  So  the  true 
Christian  conqueror  is  not  merely  a  man  with  a 
brilliant  deed  behind  him  :  he  is  one  who  has  entered 
into  a  new  and  wonderful  world,  full  of  the  rich 
fruits  of  victory. 

Beyond  conquest,  the  first  fruit  of  it  is  peace. 
There  is  a  noisy  victory  that  is  as  restless  almost 
as  the  battle  was.  But  this  conquest  is  a  thing 
which  ought  to  quiet  the  life,  giving  it  a  silent 
grandeur  of  repose.  The  rapture  of  release  is 
natural  at  first,  but  it  should  soon  pass  into  a  settled 
confidence  in  which  faith  and  character  will  grow 
and  ripen. 

Gladness  also  is  offered  to  the  Christian  victor. 
Not  only  shall  he  be  able  to  keep  the  enemies  of 
the  soul  at  bay,  or  with  strong  hand  to  suppress 
them.  Freshness  and  vitality  of  spirit  are  with 
him  also,  both  to  enjoy  his  own  life  and  to  gladden 
others.  The  man  who  wrote  this  text  was  one 
who  would  undertake  to  rejoice  in  anything  what- 
soever.     He  rejoiced  in  hope  and  he  rejoiced  in 


THE  FUETHEE  SIDE  OF  VICTOEY        303 

tribulation.  He  was,  in  the  quaint,  exhilarating 
phrase  of  an  old  commentator,  "  well,  and  merry, 
and  going  to  heaven  ".  We  owe  it  to  God,  to  our- 
selves, and  to  those  around  us  that  we  shall  not 
only  be  strong  but  rejoicing,  men  who  "  had  faced 
life  and  were  glad  ". 

Love  is  a  still  richer  spoil  of  victory.  Conquest 
is  apt  to  be  loveless  enough.  Fighting  tends  to 
harden,  and  many  a  victor  over  life  can  only  be 
said  to  tolerate  the  life  he  has  mastered.  He 
is  master  of  himself,  but  the  old  illusions  are 
gone.  There  is  no  heat  of  admiration,  nor  any 
kindliness  of  judgment,  but  only  a  brave,  austere, 
and  cheerless  spirit,  withdrawn  from  his  fellows 
and  reverencing  rather  than  loving  God.  But  this 
is  not  the  typical  victory  of  faith.  If  the  Christian 
has  conquered,  he  has  also  loved.  He  has  seen  a 
love  that  overcame  all  things  and  subdued  the 
world,  and  his  own  heart  beats  faster  as  he  remem- 
bers that  he  too  is  '^  a  man  greatly  beloved  ".  So 
he  has  conquered  in  a  heat  of  generous  affection, 
and  the  wonder  of  that  love  remains,  glorifying  the 
life  beyond  the  battle-field. 

Such  are  the  things  that  lie  beyond  mere  con- 
quest, and  the  secret  of  them  all  is  Christ.  Chris- 
tianity has  been  well  described  as  ''a  magnificent 
realization".  There  is  a  protagonist  who  fights  in 
all  our  warfare,  and  our  conquests  are  part  of  the 
great  campaign.    Every  Christian  knows  the  mean- 


304        THE  FURTHEE  SIDE  OF  VICTORY 

ing  of  the  gods  on  their  white  horses  who  fought 
in  the  battle  of  Lake  E-egiUus.  Our  victory  is  not  a 
little  narrow  personal  affair  ;  it  is  part  of  the  mighty- 
conquest  in  the  war  between  heaven  and  hell  on  the 
battle-ground  of  earth.  So  much  is  this  the  case 
that  our  victories  surprise  no  one  so  much  as  they 
surprise  ourselves.  "Thanks  be  unto  God  who 
giveth  us  the  victory,"  for  even  after  the  hardest 
fighting  the  victory  is  a  gift.  So,  through  all  the 
dust  and  smoke  of  battle,  there  is  visible  the  form 
of  the  Son  of  God.  Our  fellowship  with  Him  is 
so  great  and  wonderful  a  thing  that  beside  it  any 
victory  we  may  gain  sinks  into  insignificance.  We 
are  far  more  than  conquerors.  We  are  men  who 
have  discovered  the  peace  and  joy  and  love  of 
Christ. 

There  is  always  danger  in  very  high  ideals,  and 
there  may  be  some  who  shrink  from  such  thoughts 
as  these  with  a  sense  of  wistf  ulness  and  discourage- 
ment. When  we  think  of  our  fighting — how  often 
we  have  been  beaten,  recreant,  ashamed — our  con- 
science protests  that  God  knows  it  is  difficult 
enough  to  conquer,  and  the  weary  spirit  com- 
plains, ''Why  torment  us  with  talk  of  something 
more  ?  a  plain,  honest  victory  would  be  good  enough 
for  us ! " 

Ah,  but  this  word  ''  more  than  conquerors  "  does 
not  presuppose  a  completed  victory.  Many  a  man 
feels  acutely  how  far  he  is  from  anything  like  full 


THE  FUBTHEK  SIDE  OF  VICTORY        305 

victory,  and  yet  he  has  found  peace  and  gladness 
and  love.  For  Christ  is  generous  with  his  soldiers, 
and  His  grace  is  wonderful  beyond  all  reward. 
Long  before  we  are  conquerors,  we  are  more  than 
conquerors  ;  and  that  generosity  of  Christ,  if  a  man 
will  but  understand  and  receive  it,  will  nerve  his 
heart  and  strengthen  his  fighting  arm  in  the  day  of 
battle. 


20 


THE  TRANSFORMATION    OF   LANGUAGE 
INTO  LIFE 

{First  Sunday  in  Advent) 

"The  word  was  made  flesh." — St.  John  i.  14. 

The  one  supremely  significant  fact  in  the  universe 
is,  to  quote  Dr.  Peabody's  fine  paraphrase,  ''the 
transformation  of  language  into  life".  We  see 
this  transformation  in  three  diff'erent  moments. 
There  was  the  creation  at  the  beginning,  when 
great  vitalizing  words  of  God  took  form  in  created 
beings.  Again  there  is  the  same  transformation  in 
all  human  work  and  morality  to  the  end,  when  man 
is  hearing  words  of  God  within  him  and  is  trans- 
forming them  into  deeds  and  finished  products. 
But  between  these  two  there  stands  the  stupendous 
fact  of  Christ,  interpreting  the  first  and  inspiring 
the  second. 

1.  Creation. — It  is  matter  of  general  consent  that 
the  universe  as  we  know  it  had  a  beginning.  As 
thought  travels  backward  into  the  great  silence 
before  that  beginning,  it  must  needs  discover  a 
moment  when  the  eternal  thought  found  expres- 
sion, and  the  universe  began.     The  word  became 

(306) 


THE  TEANSFORMATION  OF  LANGUAGE     307 

flesh.  God  spoke,  and  the  thmg  spoken  stood 
out  as  a  created  fact.  ''The  universe  is  God's 
language."  The  unspoken  word  is  all  that  might 
be ;  the  spoken  word  is  all  that  is.  This  is  the 
meaning  of  those  wonderful  stories  of  Genesis,  in 
which  we  see  all  things  coming  forth  in  their 
mighty  evolution  in  answer  to  the  words  of  God. 
That  is  the  Christian  view  of  nature  and  the  uni- 
verse. It  is  not  an  eternally  grinding  machine,  nor 
is  it  a  dream-picture  woven  of  mist.  It  is  a  real 
universe,  in  which  God's  language  is  transformed 
into  life.  The  great  words  were  spoken,  and  there 
are  the  mountains  and  the  fields  and  the  seas,  and 
the  ships  upon  the  seas  and  the  cities  of  men.  It 
makes  all  the  difiference  in  the  world  whether  as 
we  stand  in  the  midst  of  all  these  things  we  hear 
only  a  jangle  of  meaningless  sounds,  or  whether 
we  hear  the  word  of  the  Lord.  Listen  to  that 
word  in  the  summer  fields  and  sunshine,  in  the 
winter  storms  and  the  voice  of  the  tossing  seas. 
Listen,  too,  in  the  crowded  streets,  the  throb  of 
machinery  and  traffic,  the  bustle  and  the  gentle 
speech  of  homes.  In  new  thought  and  adventur- 
ous policy,  in  great  loyalties  to  ancient  institu- 
tions ;  in  the  voices  of  teachers  in  schools,  of 
preachers  in  pulpits,  of  business-men  in  offices,  of 
shopkeepers  in  shops ;  in  the  heart-beatings  of  the 
lonely  and  the  sobs  of  the  penitent — everywhere 
creation  is  the  word  become  flesh. 


308    THE  TKANSFOKMATION  OF  LANGUAGE 

2.  Jesus  Christ. — The  word  had  been  spoken  in 
an  unknown  tongue.  We  heard  it,  and  saw  its  in- 
carnate forms,  but  we  did  not  understand.  Science 
was  patiently  deciphering  it,  retranslating  it  back 
from  life  to  language  ;  endeavouring  from  the  mani- 
fest facts  of  the  universe  to  spell  out  the  meaning 
of  the  Word  of  God.  But  science  finds  it  difficult, 
and  conscience  and  love  find  it  far  more  difficult 
to  understand.  The  divine  Word  has  seemed  to 
change  and  suffer  in  the  process  of  becoming  flesh. 
Its  meaning  is  obscure,  and  it  seems  to  have  been 
mingled  with  much  other  speech  that  is  not  divine. 

Many  had  tried  to  interpret  it  into  human  speech. 
Psalmists,  prophets,  philosophers  had  tried;  but 
their  words  died  away,  leaving  fainter  and  fainter 
echoes  in  man's  conscience.  They  had  written  their 
interpretation,  but  God's  word  can  never  find  full 
expression  in  a  book.  Language  must  be  trans- 
formed into  life — and  not,  this  time,  the  general  life 
of  the  universe,  but  our  human  life — that  we  might 
understand.  So  ''the  word  became  flesh".  The 
meaning  of  life,  the  purpose  of  God  in  creation, 
became  intelligible  in  Jesus  Christ.  His  whole 
speech  and  conduct  and  being  interpreted  the 
world.  When  men  saw  Him  they  said.  Life  ought 
to  be  like  that :  God  is  like  that. 

Take  three  of  the  words  of  God,  and  let  us  see 
their  transformation  into  life  in  Christ : — 

(1)  Holiness,— The  word  was  familiar,  for  there 


THE  TKANSFOKMATION  OF  LANGUAGE     309 

was  abundance  of  ethical  speculation  and  of  con- 
science too.  But  holiness  was  dead  and  buried 
in  formal  rules  of  conduct,  paralysed  by  man's 
universal  failure,  and  hopelessly  unattainable. 
But  here  was  holiness  splendidly  alive,  spontaneous, 
free,  and  natural.  Here  it  was  not  merely  attain- 
able but  actually  attained.  Jesus  Christ — that  was 
what  God  had  meant  by  conscience,  what  conscience 
had  tried  to  say ;  that  was  what  ethical  science  had 
seen  afar  off,  but  never  reached. 

(2)  Love — the  most  fascinating  and  yet  the  most 
elusive  word  of  God.  Men  heard  it  in  their  own 
hearts  and  homes,  but  it  was  uncertain  or  sinister, 
and  always  precarious,  being  threatened  both  by 
life  and  death.  That  was  human  love,  and  the 
divine  love  was  but  a  remote  and  dim  whisper  of 
possible  goodwill,  if  things  turned  out  to  be  as 
one  sometimes  almost  dared  to  hope.  But  here 
was  love  at  once  stronger  than  death  and  simple  as 
the  laughter  of  a  child.  Men  saw  its  patience,  its 
responsiveness,  its  facility.  They  felt  its  tender- 
ness, its  understanding,  its  healing  power.  Here 
is  God's  heart,  seen  in  the  heart  of  a  man.  Here 
is  what  all  true  love  actually  means.  The  word 
Love  had  become  flesh. 

(3)  Death — that  last  sad  word.  Every  death 
before  had  been  recognized  as  a  Word  of  God,  but 
how  unfriendly  and  how  harsh  !  Since  Jesus  died, 
men  have  known  what  God  means  by  His  great 


310    THE  TEANSFOKMATION  OF  LANGUAGE 

word  Death,  for  the  death  of  Jesus  has  interpreted 
the  whole  of  life.  In  the  light  of  its  love  and 
sacrifice  we  look  with  new  eyes  upon  sin,  despair, 
forgiveness,  restoration.  And  that  death  has  re- 
interpreted death  itself,  giving  to  it  surprisingly 
rich  and  blessed  meaning.  All  the  wonder  of  the 
eternal  life — its  rest,  its  renewal,  its  reward,  its 
higher  service — all  these  were  included  in  the 
meaning  of  the  word  death,  when  in  Christ  lan- 
guage was  translated  into  life.  Truly  man  may  say 
to  the  spectre,  at  the  grave  of  Jesus, 

Thou  hast  stolen  a  jewel,  Death, 
Shall  light  thy  dark  up  like  a  star. 

All  this,  and  far  more  than  this,  is  included  in 
the  meaning  of  ''  the  word  became  flesh  ".  Flesh, 
the  tempted  and  tempting  thing,  weak  and  suffer- 
ing, subject  to  all  contingencies  and  liable  to  all 
risks — flesh  was  used  to  express  adequately  and  for 
ever  the  meaning  of  God's  word  of  creation. 

3.  The  third  stage  of  this  incarnation  has  yet  to 
be  considered.  The  text  is  a  command  that  the 
word  shall  become  flesh  again  in  every  Christian 
life.  The  translation  of  language  into  life  is  the 
great  act  of  religion. 

We  are  familiar  with  the  idea  of  the  incarnation 
being  perpetuated  in  the  Bible,  the  Church,  and  the 
Sacraments.  But  besides  these,  each  life  around 
us  is  a  Word  of  God,  a  special  purpose  and  design 
realized  in  flesh  in  its  degree.     This  thought  surely 


THE  TEANSFOEMATION  OF  LANGUAGE    311 

gives  new  meaning  to  our  intercourse  with  those 
who  do  business  with  us  or  live  beside  us.  "  There 
is  but  one  temple  in  the  world,"  says  Novalis,  ''and 
that  temple  is  the  Body  of  Man.  .  .  .  We  touch 
heaven  when  we  lay  our  hands  on  a  human  body." 
Another  has  said :  ''  The  body  of  a  child  is  as  the 
body  of  the  Lord ;  I  am  not  worthy  of  either." 
How  reverently,  gently,  purely  should  we  treat  one 
another  if  this  indeed  be  so. 

But  most  especially  in  ourselves  must  language 
be  transformed  into  life.  We  all  hear  many  words 
of  God.  The  worship  of  the  Church,  its  songs  and 
prayers,  its  readings  and  thoughts,  and  the  inward 
response  to  these  in  desire,  aspiration,  and  resolve  ; 
these  words  are  to  become  flesh  in  us  when  we  re- 
turn from  our  worship  to  our  daily  life.  And  also 
there  are  other  words  which  our  spirits  hear  from 
day  to  day.  What  has  life  been  saying  to  you  ? 
What  has  your  experience  meant  ?  What  lessons 
has  God  been  trying  to  make  you  understand  ? 
Some  of  it  we  cannot  understand,  and  all  that  is 
required  of  us  is  that  we  shall  walk  among  these 
unknown  voices  of  life,  erect  and  brave  and  self- 
respecting  and  gentle.  But  there  is  much  that  we 
understand  quite  well.  It  is  the  Word  of  God, 
spoken  clearly  and  in  familiar  languasje  by  the  voice 
of  life. 

But  that  word  has  yet  to  become  flesh.  There 
are  countless  words  of  God  in  the  knowledge  and 


312  THE  TEANSFOKMATION  OF  LANGUAGE 

conviction  of  us  all  which  are  as  yet  no  more  than 
words.  These  are  waiting  for  their  incarnation  in 
our  character  and  influence,  in  our  daily  work  and 
service  of  man  and  God.  The  works  of  our  hands 
are  God's  word  fulfilled  in  us.  We  who  can  work 
are  born  that  certain  great  words  we  have  heard 
in  our  secret  souls  may  become  flesh  in  deeds. 
Rise  then  and  do  the  work  that  thy  hands  find  to 
do.  In  this  living  fashion  speak  out  what  is  in 
thee.  So  shalt  thou  also  be  a  Word  of  God  in- 
carnate, an  expression  of  His  mind  in  living  flesh. 


THE  KEASONABLE  VIEW  OF  SIN  AND 
OF  FORGIVENESS 

[Second  Sunday  in  Advent) 

"  Come  now,  and  let  us  reason  together,  saith  the  Lord ;  though 
your  sins  be  as  scarlet,  they  shall  be  as  white  as  snow; 
though  they  be  red  like  crimson,  they  shall  be  as  wool." — 
Isaiah  i.  18. 

This  passage  brings  the  facts  of  sin  and  its  removal 
into  the  light  of  reason.  It  is  a  point  of  view  more 
familiar  to  the  Greek  than  to  the  Hebrew  thought, 
and  when  the  Hebrew  prophet  describes  God  as 
reasoning  with  men  concerning  sin  we  may  expect 
some  startling  truths. 

1.  Views  of  Sin.  (1)  Unreasonable  Views.— The 
people  had  thought  of  sin  as  a  light  matter  that 
could  be  easily  compounded  for  with  sacrifices  and 
prayers—that  was  their  great  irrationality.  It  is 
repeated  by  clever  modern  people  in  many  variants, 
each  of  them  some  device  for  getting  rid  of  the  old 
spectres  of  conscience  which  once  terrified  man- 
kind. They  have  discovered  that  vice  is  but  virtue 
run  to  seed,  part  of  the  evolution  of  character,  an 
unpleasant   necessity  involved   in  human   nature. 

(313) 


314         THE  EEASONABLE  VIEW  OF  SIN 

Above  all,  they  insist  that  the  whole  subject  is  in 
bad  taste,  and  that  the  proper  course  is  to  call  it 
by  some  respectable  name  and  say  no  more  about  it. 

That  view  would  be  reasonable  but  for  the  facts 
of  the  case.  But  what  means  this  indestructible 
conscience,  this  blood-red  spectre  that  cannot  be 
laid  ?  That  is  fact,  and  there  are  those  who  would 
give  all  they  have  to  persuade  themselves  that  it 
is  mere  imagination.  We  are  told  to  cultivate  the 
power  of  living  in  the  present.  Laugh  and  forget ; 
and  ''  let  the  dead  past  bury  its  dead  ".  Yes,  if  the 
sinful  past  were  dead !  but  it  is  alive,  and  it  will  not 
stay  underground. 

(2)  The  reasonable  vieiv — ''  Scarlet  and  crimson  ". 
That  is  the  fact  of  sin — glaring,  blazing,  unconceal- 
able.  Nay  more,  these  are  the  colours  of  newly 
shed  blood.  The  reference  is  to  verse  fifteen,  where 
the  people  are  accused  of  violence  and  murder. 
Like  Lady  Macbeth  they  have  the  stain  of  blood  on 
their  hand,  and  the  ^  damned  spot '  will  not  wash  out. 

Such  language  offends  our  ears.  What  have  we 
to  do  with  this  ?  we  are  no  murderers.  Are  we 
not  ?  What  of  the  slain  innocence,  the  aspirations 
and  pure  hopes  and  desires  that  once  were  ours  ? 
What  of  the  strength  of  will,  the  tenderness  of  con- 
science ?  What  of  the  happiness  of  friends,  their 
trust  and  love  ?  Habits  of  evil  have  murdered  our 
freedom  ;  desires  of  evil  have  murdered  our  moral 
sanity  and  balance  ;  temptations  we  have  welcomed 


THE  REASONABLE  VIEW  OF  SIN         315 

have  murdered  the  chances  of  to-morrow.  We  have 
stricken  our  own  souls,  wounding  them  to  death. 

But  why  go  thus  among  the  graves  and  let  loose 
the  spectres  ?  The  answer  is  plain ;  we  are  not 
doing  this,  it  is  reason  that  is  doing  it.  ''  Scarlet 
and  crimson  "  are  the  words  of  reason  to  eminently 
respectable  people.  Much  is  dead  in  you  and  me, 
and  we  are  its  murderers.  That  is  the  truth  about 
sin ;  and,  that  being  so,  this  is  the  only  reasonable 
way  to  think  of  it.  Come,  then,  and  be  reasonable. 
All  the  perfumes  of  Arabia — all  the  sweet  theories 
of  a  tasteful  generation  that  strews  with  flowers  the 
grave  of  its  murdered  conscience — will  not  sweeten 
this  little  hand.     Our  sins  are  scarlet  and  crimson. 

2.  Views  of  the  issue.  (1)  Unreasonable. — If  this 
be  the  true  view  of  sin,  the  true  view  of  its  issue 
would  appear  to  be  ghastly  enough.  It  must  be 
suffering,  hopeless  and  unrelieved.  The  context 
shows  the  people  of  Israel  battered  by  punishment, 
one  mass  of  disease  and  pain.  Yet  all  that  had 
failed.  ''Why  should  ye  be  stricken  any  more? 
Ye  will  revolt  more  and  more."  They  had  been 
punished  in  vain.  The  blows  had  been  unexplained, 
for  there  was  no  knowing  in  them.  As  blow  fell 
after  blow,  they  simply  took  what  was  given,  sullen- 
ness  sinking  to  a  fatal  despair.  Nothing  could  be 
more  unintelligent  or  farther  from  reason  than  that. 
It  was  not  the  despair  of  the  conscience-stricken 
but  the  despair  of  the  brutish.     Had  conscience 


316         THE  KEASONABLE  VIEW  OF  SIN 

stung  them  to  desperation,  had  they  been  aware 
of  the  colour  of  their  sins,  there  would  have  been 
reason  in  it :  but  this  was  wholly  irrational,  a 
dumb  misery  that  unintelligently  accepted  the 
situation. 

The  counterpart  of  that  despair  is  to  be  found  in 
our  modern  pessimism.  It  professes  to  be  reason- 
able. It  founds  upon  philosophy  and  science.  It 
knows  the  hereditary  taint  in  the  blood,  the  im- 
prisoning environment  and  the  tremendous  odds 
against  virtue.  It  knows  also  that  man's  sin  is 
sure  to  find  him  out.  It  is  not  "  done  when  'tis 
done,"  but  it  is  only  beginning  then.  It  will  work 
out  its  course  through  vain  remorse  and  tightening 
bonds  of  habit,  and  deepening  gloom.  The  wages 
of  sin  is  death — "  wages,"  nay  the  prize,  the  best 
thing  sin  has  to  give.  The  only  relief  that  pessim- 
ism has  to  offer  is  that  this  cannot  go  on  indefinitely. 
The  increasing  horror  of  the  rapids  is  so  great  that 
the  swift  plunge  will  come  as  a  relief  at  last.  This 
is  widely  held  to  be  the  rational  view  of  the  situa- 
tion, and  it  would  be  so,  but  for  one  fact  that  it  has 
left  out. 

2.  The  Reasonable  inew  of  the  Issue — "  They  shall 
be  white  as  snow  .  .  .  they  shall  be  as  wool ".  The 
words  maintain  the  vivid  sense  of  colour,  and  con- 
trast with  the  gleaming  blood,  the  snows  of  Hermon 
and  the  fleece  of  young  lambs.  They  bring  us  back 
to  the  austere  cleanness  of  nature  which  formerly 


THE  KEASONABLE  VIEW  OF  SIN         317 

had  seemed  to  judge  the  murderer  by  her  cold  and 
inexorable  contrast. 

This  is  very  startling  ;  if  we  could  believe  it  it 
would  be  very  comforting  ;  but  by  what  straining 
of  language  can  it  possibly  be  called  reasonable  ? 
It  contradicts  the  whole  record  of  history  and  goes 
in  the  teeth  of  science.  It  is  altogether  too  good 
to  be  true  in  face  of  the  facts.  Why  mock  us 
further  by  speaking  of  reason  here  ? 

Because  of  the  omitted  fact.  Pain  is  no  match 
for  sin,  but  love  is  more  than  a  match  for  it.  The 
omitted  fact  is  the  fact  of  God.  This  is  a  record 
of  His  reasoning  with  man.  He  is  neither  compel- 
ling man's  will  nor  condemning  his  transgression. 
He  is  appealing  to  his  intelligence,  urging  him  to 
take  all  the  facts  into  consideration,  and  the  fact  of 
God  above  all  other  facts.  If  God  be  God,  there 
must  be  some  other  issue,  and  the  very  fact  that 
He  is  reasoning  with  men  is  full  of  the  suggestion  of 
hope.  God  has  some  way  of  dealing  with  sin  which 
at  the  same  time  paints  it  in  the  most  violent  colours 
and  yet  entirely  removes  it.  If  God  knows  all  and 
yet  says  this,  then  hope  and  not  despair  is  rational, 
for  the  most  reasonable  thing  in  all  the  world  must 
surely  be  to  trust  the  character  of  God. 

So  the  whole  argument  runs  back  at  last  to  the 
love  of  God.  He,  who  knows  the  depth  of  sin, 
knows  also  the  height  of  His  own  forgiveness  and 
the  power  of  redemption.    All  the  reason  is  on  His 


318         THE  EEASONABLE  VIEW  OF  SIN 

side,  for  if  God  indeed  is  offering  to  take  sin  away, 
the  only  reasonable  course  must  be  to  accept  the 
offer  and  let  Him  do  it.  This  reasoning  of  love  is 
indeed  the  greatest  mystery  in  the  universe.  It 
does  not  explain  the  tremendous  paradox  of  life, 
but  it  explains  all  we  need  to  know.  It  leaves  us 
on  the  one  hand  with  the  dread  reality  of  sin,  and 
on  the  other  with  the  equal  reality  of  pardon  and 
deliverance.  It  faces  all  the  facts  of  perverse  will 
and  the  destruction  that  it  leads  to,  but  it  brings  in 
the  greater  fact  of  the  irresistible  power  of  love 
that  masters  all. 

By  Jesus  Christ  this  tremendous  challenge  was 
accepted,  and  the  facts  set  against  one  the  other. 
The  belief  in  redemption  is  entirely  reasonable, 
for  the  thing  has  been  done.  The  new  fact  of 
God's  love  has  been  tested,  and  the  hosts  of  the 
redeemed  are  God's  answer  to  man's  greatest 
question.  Sinful  men,  generation  after  generation, 
looked  in  despair  at  the  scarlet  and  crimson  of 
their  sins  ;  and  behold  they  stand  in  white — white 
as  snow  and  wool — before  the  throne.  That  is 
what  Love  can  do  and  has  done.  God  has  proved 
His  case. 


THE  DIVINE  LOVE  INCARNATE 

{Third  Sunday  in  Advent) 

"The  love  of  God  which  is  in  Christ  Jesus." — Romans  viii.  39. 

Who  is  Jesus  Christ  ?  and  what  has  He  done  for 
men  ?  The  answer  of  Christian  faith  is,  He  is 
God  manifest  in  the  flesh,  who  for  us  men  and  for 
our  salvation  lived  on  earth  and  died  upon  the 
cross  and  lives  for  evermore.  Yet  there  are  many 
to  whom  such  formal  definitions  are  valueless 
because  they  have  not  any  sufficiently  definite 
meaning  in  relation  to  our  common  experience  of 
human  life.  Even  those  who  are  prepared  to  ac- 
cept the  formula,  feel  only  too  keenly  how  little 
they  really  understand  it.  "  Christ  Jesus,"  says  a 
thoughtful  writer,  "was  in  outward  seeming  like 
other  men ;  His  divinity  is  discerned  only  by  spirit- 
ual grace."  That  is  true,  and  it  is  worth  our  while 
to  inquire  along  what  lines  human  nature  is  open 
to  this  spiritual  grace,  so  that  seeing  Christ  along 
them  we  may  discern  God  in  Him. 

God,  the  Divine  spirit  at  work  in  the  world,  can 

only  be  discerned  by  man  along  such  channels  as 

(319) 


320  THE  DIVINE  LOVE  INCAENATE 

are  open  to  man,  and  the  common  description  of 
the  three  main  channels  as  power,  thought,  and 
love,  will  be  a  sufficiently  clear  and  comprehensive 
one.  From  the  first,  the  forces  of  nature  were 
obvious  and  impressive,  and  man  expressed  his 
sense  of  these  in  primitive  idol-worship.  As 
civilization  advanced,  the  ideas  of  order  and  in- 
telligence were  perceived  more  and  more  clearly, 
revealing  wisdom  as  well  as  power  in  the  Divine. 
Last  and  highest,  as  family  affections  grew  deeper 
and  more  refined,  love  was  recognized  as  an 
essential,  and  indeed  paramount,  quality  of  God. 

He  who  undertakes  to  manifest  God  in  the  flesh, 
then,  must  work  along  these  lines,  combining  and 
as  it  were  epitomizing  in  himself  the  power,  wisdom, 
and  love  of  God.  Apart  from  such  a  manifestation, 
God  is  discovered  working  out  His  ends  slowly  in 
the  processes  of  nature  and  of  human  life.  He  is 
to  be  seen  in  the  whole  life  of  field  and  tree  and 
beast  and  bird,  and  in  all  the  lives  of  men,  being 
in  a  sense  incarnate  in  creation.  But — so  complex 
is  creation — such  manifestation  must  always  be  in- 
complete and  inaccurate,  and  the  great  necessity 
must  be  for  a  manifestation  of  the  life  of  God  in  a 
series  of  typical  events  within  the  limits  of  a  single 
human  life.  It  is  this  that  Jesus  claims  to  have 
done.  He  was  that  mysterious  being  who  had 
power  thus  to  sum  up  in  Himself  the  entire  process 
of  God's  life  in  man.     He  achieved  in  one  short 


THE  DIVINE  LOVE  INCAENATE  321 

lifetime  the  exhibition  of  the  character  and  action 
of  the  eternal  God. 

As  to  the  power,  there  can  be  no  question  that 
in  Him  history  records  a  quite  unique  display. 
Whatever  theory  may  be  adopted  in  regard  to  the 
miracles,  it  is  abundantly  evident  that  here  was  One 
who  laid  mighty  hands  upon  the  individual  lives 
with  which  He  met,  and  that  in  His  healing  and 
helping  energy  men  recognized  the  epitomizing  of 
forces  which  would  have  otherwise  been  seen  only 
in  lengthy  natural  processes.  Still  more  does  His 
power  reveal  itself  in  that  grasp  of  mental  and 
social  phenomena,  which,  through  the  agency  of  the 
early  church,  utterly  changed  existing  society,  set 
for  the  world  new  ideals,  and  set  free  within  it  new 
forces  whose  operation  waited  its  time,  but  was 
irresistible  when  that  time  had  come.  And  this  is 
but  the  chief  example  of  those  immense  supplies  of 
reserve  power  which  we  are  aware  of  in  reading  His 
life  and  words.  One  feels  always  that  there  are 
wide  margins  of  possibility  beyond  the  actual  deeds 
recorded,  and  that  His  forces  of  character  and  influ- 
ence are  never  put  forth  up  to  the  edge  of  their  field 
of  exercise.  He  is,  Himself,  fully  aware  of  this,  and 
very  frequently  speaks  of  powers  which  He  might 
have  exercised,  but  restrained.  Once,  indeed.  He 
exclaims,  ''  All  power  is  given  unto  me  in  heaven 
and  in  earth  ". 

Similarly  the  thought  of  God  is  revealed  alike  in 

21 


322  THE  DIVINE  LOVE  INCAENATE 

His  sayings  and  in  His  life.  The  wonder  of  the 
speech  of  Jesus  is  not  its  novelty,  but  rather  a  sense 
of  familiarity  and  recognition  which  it  awakens. 
It  is  as  if  we  had  known  this  before,  though  we  had 
never  been  able  to  express  it.  Fragments  of  con- 
viction, broken  and  imperfect  intuitions  and  impres- 
sions about  moral  and  spiritual  things,  spring  into 
living  knowledge  when  we  have  heard  Him  speak. 
It  is  as  though  the  thought  of  God,  which  had  been 
striving  for  utterance  in  the  process  of  life,  had 
extricated  itself  from  manifold  contradictions,  and 
stood  out  clear  and  convincing,  as  final  truth. 

But  most  especially  does  the  love  of  God  mani- 
fest itself  in  Christ.  It  had  been  seen  before  Him, 
in  all  human  love,  in  families  and  among  friends. 
All  love  is  of  God,  as  we  are  told  so  emphatically 
in  the  first  Epistle  of  John.  But  at  best  human 
love  could  give  but  a  confused  idea  of  divine  love, 
and  in  some  cases  it  must  lead  rather  to  doubt  than 
to  assurance.  For  love  on  earth  is  often  divorced 
from  wisdom  and  from  power,  and  then  its  folly  and 
its  ineffectiveness  lead  rather  to  scepticism  than  to 
faith.  If  it  is  to  reveal  the  divine  love  in  any 
credible  or  consoling  fashion,  it  must  be  brought 
back  into  relation  with  thought  and  power. 

It  needs  thought  and  wisdom.  It  is  often  bhnd 
and  uncomprehending,  a  mere  passion  not  far  re- 
moved from  the  senses,  and  utterly  unfit  for  any 
confidence  in  so  complex  an  engagement  as  human 


THE  DIVINE  LOVE  INCAKNATE  323 

life.  Such  unthinking  and  unwise  love  is  one  of  the 
commonest  of  man's  curses  on  the  earth.  In  a 
world  like  this  it  is  not  enough  to  love  ;  we  must 
love  wisely.  And  instead  of  mere  uncomprehend- 
ing emotion,  love  needs  a  deep  insight,  a  vast 
stretch  of  imagination,  ingenuity,  and  conscience, 
to  make  it  valuable  or  even  safe. 

Not  less  does  human  love  require  power.  As 
Butler  said  of  conscience,  "  Had  it  strength,  as  it 
has  right ;  had  it  power,  as  it  has  manifest  author- 
ity, it  would  absolutely  govern  the  world".  But 
as  a  matter  of  fact,  love  is  constantly  mastered 
on  the  earth.  Selfishness,  arbitrary  circumstances, 
poverty,  the  lapse  of  time,  all  are  seen  to  conquer 
it.  Finally  death  comes,  and  love  in  passionate 
rebellion  struggles  in  vain  against  that  enemy.  In 
view  of  these  things  there  is  many  a  life  in  which 
love,  confessedly  the  most  precious  of  human  gifts, 
is  yet  also  the  weakest. 

But  the  love  of  Jesus  was  illuminated  by  know- 
ledge and  fortified  with  power :  it  was  strong  as  it 
was  wise.  He  saw  and  understood  those  whom  He 
loved.  His  insight  penetrated  to  the  depths  of 
man's  folly  and  sin,  reconstructed  his  scattered 
ideals  and  insecure  principles,  interpreted  him  to 
himself,  and  so  taught  him  to  love  discriminately. 
Similarly  His  love  was  strong  enough  to  accom- 
plish that  which  human  love  can  only  desire  and 
long  to  do.     His  miracles  are  not  recorded  as  mere 


324  THE  DIVINE  LOVE  INCARNATE 

displays  of  power,  but  of  love  that  was  strong 
enough  to  cope  with  human  sorrows.  Faced  by 
death  itself,  that  love  did  not  fail.  It  was  stronger 
than  death.  Love  was  thus  set  free  by  Christ  as  an 
actual  and  effective  force  in  the  midst  of  human  life 
with  its  needs  and  its  perplexities.  That  wise  and 
powerful  love  is  among  us  yet.  And  in  it  and 
in  its  effects  we  see  God,  and  understand  not 
His  love  only,  but  also  His  wisdom  and  His 
power.  And  the  more  carefully  we  observe  its 
contact  with  life  at  the  acutest  points  of  man's 
suffering,  temptation,  and  wretcheduess,  the  more 
clearly  we  see  in  Jesus  the  setting  free  of  the 
eternal  wisdom,  power,  and  love  upon  the  earth. 


THE  SECOND  ADVENT 

{Fourth  Sunday  in  Advent.) 

"Like  unto  men  that  wait  for  their  lord." — Luke  xii.  36. 

Few  doctrines  have  suffered  more  at  the  hands  of 
then'  friends  than  that  of  the  second  coming  of 
Jesus  Christ.  The  Scriptures  which  relate  to  it 
have  in  them  much  of  the  spectacular,  which  is 
obviously  there  for  the  sake  of  vividness  and  not  of 
literal  prophecy.  To  understand  the  details  a  con- 
siderable knowledge  of  the  history  of  symbolism 
would  be  needed,  besides  a  wide  acquaintance  with 
Persian  and  the  later  Greek  literature.  Unfortun- 
ately the  boldest  dogmatists  in  this  region  are  fre- 
quently those  most  inadequately  equipped  for  the 
task,  and  the  popular  attempts  at  interpretation  and 
forecast  are  to  be  wholly  distrusted.  Amid  refer- 
ences to  the  clouds  of  heaven,  the  sound  of  a  trumpet, 
and  so  on,  we  lose  ourselves  at  once.  Even  the  word 
"  descend  "  presupposes  a  system  of  astronomy  now 
held  by  no  one.  Equally  impossible  is  it  to  reach 
any  sound  conclusions  as  to  the  time  of  a  second 
advent.     Those  who  are  curious  about  prophetic 

signs  and  portents  may  find  them  in  every  age. 

(325) 


326  THE  SECOND  ADVENT 

Such  interpreters  forget  the  largeness  of  history  and 
the  smallness  of  our  knowledge  and  experience. 
They  foster  a  morbid  curiosity,  whose  effects  upon 
the  credulous  are  sometimes  very  mischievous.  In 
the  wise  words  of  Godet,  the  Church  "  has  nothing 
else  to  do,  in  virtue  of  her  ignorance  (from  which 
she  ought  not  to  wish  to  escape)  than  to  remain  in- 
variably on  the  watch  ". 

The  great  fact  which  remains,  when  we  have 
detached  ourselves  from  entanglements  of  detail,  is 
the  fact  of  Christ  in  the  future  as  well  as  in  the 
past.  Of  that  we  must  assure  ourselves,  for  the 
question  rises,  Has  Christianity  a  future  with  Christ 
in  it  ?  All  great  and  fascinating  ideals  have  a 
tendency  to  leave  behind  them  the  conviction  that 
they  will  return.  One  has  only  to  remember  the 
legends  of  Arthur,  Barbarossa,  and  Napoleon,  to 
find  examples.  In  a  sense  the  legend  is  true. 
Many  of  man's  designs  are  greater  than  the  length  of 
his  life,  and  the  demand  for  the  continuance  of  any- 
thing which  has  once  shown  itself  vividly  effective 
and  satisfying  is  part  of  our  instinct  of  immortality. 
All  the  incompleteness,  also,  which  men  lamented 
in  the  work  of  those  other  heroes,  is  here  also. 
The  New  Testament  bears  all  the  marks  of  an  un- 
finished story. 

But  in  the  personality  of  Jesus  Christ  we  find 
the  element  which  distinguishes  this  from  all  other 
stories,  and  which  guarantees  a  sequel  with  a  lit- 


THE  SECOND  ADVENT  327 

eral  certainty  very  different  from  the  merely  ideal 
truth  of  the  other  expectations.  From  such  passages 
as  the  text — and  there  are  many  of  them — we  see 
the  conviction  of  a  return  firmly  seated  in  His  own 
consciousness.  His  claim  to  be  the  Messiah,  and 
His  identification  of  Himself  with  the  kingdom  of 
God,  necessarily  include  a  doctrine  of  return.  He 
began  that  kingdom  and  reign,  and  He  obviously 
meant  to  complete  it.  Men  who  saw  and  under- 
stood its  beginnings,  recognized  in  them  the  very 
truth  of  life,  the  real  meaning  of  history,  towards 
which  all  the  past  had  been  feeling  its  way.  They 
felt  that  this  ideal  state  of  things  must  and  shall  be 
completed,  and  they  perceived  that  such  completion 
would  be  impossible  without  Him. 

Then  His  death  became  evident  in  the  immediate 
future.  He  sought  no  escape,  but  deliberately 
accepted  it.  Beyond  His  death  He  perceived  the 
unconquered  evil  forces  of  the  world  working  out 
their  dark  miseries  for  mankind.  Yet  all  this  never 
for  a  moment  shook  His  faith  in  the  kingdom  of 
God.  Nay  He  linked  on  the  thought  of  His  death 
with  the  coming  perfection  of  the  kingdom,  and 
saw,  in  death,  not  the  thwarting  of  the  kingdom, 
but  a  necessary  incident  in  its  coming.  He  felt  in 
Himself  the  redeeming  and  renewing  power  that 
would  yet  recreate  the  world. 

As  to  the  form  in  which  He  expressed  this.  He 
was  content  to  use  familiar  Old  Testament  figures 


828  THE  SECOND  ADVENT 

and  symbols.  For  the  detailed  interpretation  of 
these  we  have,  as  has  been  already  said,  no  key. 
But  the  central  meaning  is  perfectly  clear.  The 
kingdom  of  God  is  coming.  Essentially,  this  is  the 
promise  that  righteousness  shall  triumph  on  the 
earth,  and  become  universal,  full  of  judgment  and 
at  the  same  time  full  of  gladness.  But  all  this 
always  centres  in  Himself,  so  that  He  is  as  essential 
to  the  future  as  to  the  past  of  the  kingdom,  and 
both  are  inseparably  identified  with  His  presence. 
When  our  faith  seeks  to  follow  in  His  footsteps, 
and  we  repeat  for  ourselves  the  process  of  His 
thought,  we  find,  to  begin  with,  the  conviction  of 
the  worth  of  righteousness  supreme  among  our 
convictions.  To  see  this  once  is  to  be  unable  ever 
to  see  life  otherwise  again.  This  kingdom  of  God 
is  the  very  truth  and  meaning  of  life  ;  and  our  con- 
viction of  the  worth  and  reality  of  righteousness 
compels  us  to  believe  in  its  ultimate  victory.  But 
then,  for  us,  righteousness  is  wholly  identified  with 
Christ.  Literally,  "  He  is  our  righteousness,'*  and 
when  we  think  of  righteousness  we  think  of  Him. 
Hence,  when  we  think  of  it  in  the  future,  we  cannot 
omit  Him  from  the  thought.  Christ  has  made  Him- 
self absolutely  indispensable  to  us,  and  absolutely 
certain  also.  The  fact  that  meanwhile  He  is  with- 
drawn from  sight  is  a  mere  incident  of  no  essential 
significance.  Looking  back  and  forward,  we  see 
righteousness  and  we  see  Jesus. 


THE  SECOND  ADVENT  329 

This  sets  for  us  the  principle  that  in  watching  for 
His  coming  we  shall  find  the  real  signs  in  the  region 
of  ideas  and  in  the  progress  of  history.  Even  now 
we  see  the  kingdom  of  God  gradually  taking  over 
the  kingdoms  of  the  world.  Christ  has  slowly 
mastered  the  conscience  of  mankind,  and  every 
advance  in  public  or  private  morality  is  a  new 
triumph.  Again,  in  individual  lives,  every  con- 
spicuous moment  of  experience  is  inseparable  from 
a  new  revelation  of  Christ  to  the  soul  of  the  be- 
liever. If  in  any  measure  we  are  conquerors,  it  is 
"through  Him  that  loved  us".  Thus,  as  every 
Christian  heart  knows,  "  Christ  has  come  because 
He  is  here,"  and  every  new  year  ''  rings  in  the  Christ 
that  is  to  be ".  And,  as  we  look  forward  to  the 
future,  all  these  lines  of  public  progress  and  of 
private  experience  culminate  in  a  point  of  time  when 
Christ  will  be  manifest  again.  In  our  present  state 
we  have  always  the  sense  of  being  "absent  from 
the  Lord,"  but  everything  around  and  within  us 
tells  us  that  the  absence  is  only  for  a  time.  We 
are  sure  that  we  shall  yet  see  Him  face  to  face. 
For  us  individually,  indeed,  this  climax  may  mean 
the  vision  that  death  will  bring.  But  for  the  world 
it  means  more  than  that.  Christ  has  appeared  at 
the  beginning  of  the  kingdom,  and  Christendom 
looks  forward  to  a  time  when  the  gradual  victory 
will  be  completed,  and  the  Son  of  Man  will  be 
manifest  on  the  new  earth  He  has  remade. 


330  THE  SECOND  ADVENT 

Meanwhile  the  practical  results  of  this  great  hope 
are  evident.  It  inspires  those  who  believe  with 
an  undying  faith  in  the  future.  For  them,  Christ 
is  in  the  future,  and  there  is  all  the  difference  in 
the  world  between  a  religion  which  merely  tells  a 
story  of  the  past  and  one  which  makes  for  a  future 
day.  We  trust  the  future,  and  wait  for  it  in  faith 
and  patience,  because  we  see  Christ  there  victori- 
ously doing  His  will,  and  that  vision  wakens  all  that 
is  bravest  in  us  as  we  wait.  Further,  it  puts  a  new 
meaning  on  the  daily  facts  of  life  when  we  recog- 
nize Christ's  coming  in  them.  The  chmax  is  still  to 
be  waited  for,  but  the  coming  is  here  and  now, 
transforming  all  things  for  those  who  have  eyes  to 
see. 

For  the  ultimate  reunion,  and  for  the  daily  com- 
ing of  Christ  alike,  one  fact  only  is  certain.  His 
coming  is  ever  unexpected.  The  Christ  we  are 
waiting  for  is  one  whose  habit  it  is  to  surprise  the 
world.  It  is  this  constantly  reiterated  warning 
which  discourages  our  curiosity  as  to  details.  By 
studying  curious  Scriptures  you  may  think  out  a 
plan  and  fix  a  date,  and  that  will  be  the  hour  when 
ye  think.  But  it  is  in  the  hour  when  ye  think  not 
that  Christ  is  to  come.  And  the  practical  lesson  is 
that  we  be  so  alert  as  to  be  always  ready  to  recog- 
nize Christ  in  unexpected  ways  and  at  unexpected 
times.  We  expect  Him  in  the  clouds  of  heaven ; 
he  is  coming  along  the  streets  of  earth.    We  expect 


THE  SECOND  ADVENT  331 

Him  in  some  great  way ;  He  is  coming  in  a  thou- 
sand little  ways.  Only  by  alertness  shall  we  over- 
reach surprise  ;  by  standing  with  the  lights  of  faith 
and  love  and  joy  trimmed  and  burning,  and  the 
loins  girt  so  that  we  are  strong  and  unhampered  for 
immediate  service. 


THE  GROUPS  AEOUND  THE  CRADLE 

{Christmas  Day) 

"The  eyes  of  all  wait  upon  Thee." — Psalm  oxlv.  15. 

The  one  thing  which  is  evident  above  all  others  in 
the  artless  Christmas  stories  of  the  New  Testa- 
ment, is  their  unconscious  grouping  round  the  cradle 
of  significant  and  representative  figures  which> 
taken  together,  bring  the  world  to  gaze  upon  the 
wonder  of  Christ's  coming.  Like  the  symbolic 
groups  round  some  statue  they  stand  or  kneel  before 
Him,  forming  one  prophetic  picture  of  His  manifold 
influence  upon  the  world.  In  the  beautiful  words 
rendered  familiar  by  the  music  of  Gounod's  ''  Nazar- 
eth," we  have  the  local  shepherds,  the  far-travelled 
kings,  and  the  wind  among  the  pine  trees  ;  ex- 
cellently telling  the  same  truth,  and  adding  only 
that  sense  of  nature  also  finding  her  interpreter  in 
Him,  which  Milton  expressed  so  nobly  in  his  Hymn 
on  the  Nativity . 

First  there  are  the  parents,  linking  Him  in  at  once 
with  Israel's  royalty  and  peasantry.  Joseph  the 
carpenter  brings  Him  among  the  working  men  and 

disappears,   having  rendered    this    service.      The 

(332) 


THE  GKOUPS  AEOUND  THE  CKADLE  333 

working  man  shall  receive  from  Jesus  abundant 
repayment  for  that  carpenter's  care.  Mary  brings 
womanhood  to  the  cradle,  as  Raphael  and  Rossetti 
have  so  exquisitely  understood.  Her  pure  soul  has 
been  astonished  and  grieved  with  centuries  of  wor- 
ship. But  one  of  the  main  reasons  for  her  worship 
was  that  asceticism  had  taken  the  love  of  woman 
from  the  conscience  of  man,  and  it  was  by  the  com- 
pulsion of  an  eternal  human  need  that  she  came  back 
in  this  strange  fashion.  But,  while  the  worship 
must  pass,  the  gift  she  brought  remains— purity 
and  love  are  where  Jesus  is  from  the  beginning. 

The  Roman  Emperor  is  there,  for  it  was  the 
census  that  brought  the  babe  to  Bethlehem. 
Drawn,  like  so  many  thousands,  by  that  Emperor's 
will  along  the  roads  of  Palestine,  they  little  thought 
how  strong  a  link  it  was  that  then  was  forged. 
Rome  shall  reckon  with  that  babe  yet,  and  the 
greatness  of  her  Empire  shall  pass  over  to  His 
Church. 

The  angels  and  the  shepherds  are  intentionally 
united  in  one  group.  Highest  heaven  and  lowliest 
earth,  separated  by  all  the  fears  and  superstitions 
of  the  past,  are  one  at  last  in  this  welcome.  The 
shepherd's  pipe  had  sounded  many  a  day  and  night 
among  those  pastures,  and  its  only  response  had 
been  the  bleating  of  the  sheep  and  echoes  from  the 
rocks,  or  the  songs  of  rough  voices.  Yet  it  had 
sought  wistfully — who  can  resist  the  wistfulness  of 


334  THE  GEOUPS  AEOUND  THE  CEADLE 

it  ? — for  some  other  answer.  Now  the  songs  of  the 
heavenly  choir  respond  to  it,  and  its  wild  music 
finds  what  it  sought.  For  in  Him  the  wistfulness 
of  earth  that  yearns  upward  to  the  mystery  of  the 
stars  finds  at  length  an  answer ;  and  humble  men 
discover  unknown  friends  in  heaven. 

Anna  and  Simeon  bring  their  hymns  of  welcome, 
and  aged  arms  enfold  Him  in  the  temple.  No 
Pharisees  are  there,  nor  Sadducees — none  of  the 
sophisticated  lords  of  religion.  But  the  worship  of 
the  world  is  there.  In  that  temple,  and  in  many 
another,  where  the  piety  of  the  world  came  to  pray, 
empty  arms  had  been  stretched  out  towards  the 
unseen  God.  But  in  Him  worship  was  to  find 
what  it  had  sought,  and  to  understand  its  own 
mysteries  at  last.  Its  God  had  hidden  Himself, 
and  the  world  of  worshippers  had  been  seeking  for 
Him.  Now  that  they  found  Him  it  was  in  the 
flesh  of  a  little  babe.  And  they  understood  that 
God  is  nearer  than  they  had  dared  to  hope.  Men 
would  look  upon  their  children's  faces,  and  touch 
them  reverently,  and  God  would  be  sought  and 
found,  not  in  the  distant  heaven,  but  here  in  the 
lives  of  men  upon  the  earth. 

The  Magi  come  from  far  lands,  guided  by  a  star, 
with  precious  gifts  in  their  hands.  For  this  is  to  be 
no  national  hero  merely,  nor  local  revelation.  He 
is  for  the  world,  and  the  Gentiles  shall  come  to 
His  light.      And  the  wisdom  of  the  world  shall 


THE  GEOUPS  AEOUND  THE  CEADLE  335 

come  to  Him  also,  and  find  the  sciences  open  for 
their  exploration.  Guided  by  a  star,  they  will 
travel  through  astrology  to  astronomy;  through 
fantasy  to  knowledge.  And  while  science  flour- 
ishes in  His  days,  more  and  more  will  it  return  to 
the  cradle  again,  confessing  that  the  highest  know- 
ledge is  beyond  its  ken,  and  seeking  that  from  Him. 

Lastly,  what  is  this  evil  face  looking  over  the 
shoulders  of  the  Magi  ?  Herod,  with  his  cunning 
eye,  and  his  murderous  heart,  is  there.  Without 
that  last  figure  the  group  were  incomplete.  It 
would  tell  of  a  world  too  fair  and  too  harmonious. 
But  the  world  we  know  has  sin  in  it,  and  the 
undertone  of  the  shepherd's  pipe  and  the  angels' 
song  is  a  bitter  cry  that  will  not  be  comforted. 
The  babe  has  drawn  to  His  cradle  not  only  the  wor- 
ship and  the  wisdom  of  the  world,  but  its  tragedies 
of  sorrow  and  of  sin.  That  touch  completes  the 
picture,  casting  among  the  shadows  of  the  stable 
the  deeper  shadow  of  the  cross. 

Thus,  around  the  manger  of  Bethlehem,  all  the 
world  meets,  bringing  the  manifold  interests  of 
humanity  to  Jesus  Christ,  that  He  may  interpret 
and  command  them.  The  unseen  world  presses  in 
also,  for  here  heaven  finds  its  Eevealer  Who  shall 
indeed  make  it  visible  to  the  earth ;  and  hell,  as- 
tonished, drags  its  loathsomeness  into  the  light  in 
a  vain  attempt  to  match  itself  against  its  destroyer. 
Surely  this  is  the  night  of  all  the  days  and  nights, 
the  birth  in  which  all  creation  is  new  born. 


THE  END  OF  THE  YEAR 

"It  is  finished."— St.  John  xix.  30. 

The  closing  year  draws  us  to  this  text.     There  are 

two  senses  in  which  we  use  the  word  ''finished," 

and  the  death  of  Jesus  illustrates  them  both. 

1.  Finished,   meaning   come   to  an  end. — There 

was  indeed  much  that  came  to  an  end  when  Jesus 

died,  and  there  was  much  that  had  sore  need  to  find 

its  ending.     In  the  words  there  is  a  sigh  of  infinite 

relief.    His  sufferings  were  over.    In  the  deepening 

swoon  of  death,  the  pain  of  His  wounds,  and  the 

excruciating  weight  and  drag  of  the  body  on  the 

hands,  were  already  fading  away.     Behind  these, 

the  malice  and  enmity,  the  heart  sore  and  broken 

with   reproach,  were   behind   him ;   soon,   on  the 

bosom  of  the  Father,  all  these   would  be   but  a 

dream  of  the  past.    Behind  that  again,  the  growing 

sense  of  failure  and  disappointment  as  men  rejected 

Him  and  all  He  had  to  offer  them — that  too  was 

gone  for  ever.      But  behind  all  else,  there  were 

great  shadows  fleeing  from  the  thrones  from  which 

they  had  oppressed  mankind — sin  and  sorrow  and 

death  were  finished  too. 

For  us  also  the  close  of  every  year  brings  much 

(336) 


THE  END  OF  THE  YEAE  337 

to  mind  that  we  would  gladly  be  done  with.  Every 
year  nails  some  part  of  humanity  on  its  cross,  but 
now  the  crucifixion  of  this  year  is  finished.  Each 
of  us  has  his  own  share  of  things  that  never  seem 
to  come  to  an  end.  The  long  vexations  and  the 
unhealed  wounds,  the  struggle  and  the  sinning — 
how  eternal  they  seem  to  be  at  times.  So  that  at 
this  season  there  are  many  hearts  who  feel  like 
Childe  Koland, 

Yet  acquiescingly 
I  did  turn  as  he  pointed  :  neither  pride 
Nor  hope  rekindling  at  the  end  descried, 

So  much  as  gladness  that  some  end  might  be. 

Well,  at  the  poorest,  there  is  at  least  always  this  to 
say,  "  It  is  finished  " — you  have  gone  through  it 
and  are  done  with  it. 

The  year  is  dying  in  the  night ; 
Eing  out,  wild  bells,  and  let  him  die. 

There  is  a  great  art  in  letting  the  past  be  past. 
Leave  the  cross  of  last  year  in  that  year,  and  do  not 
take  it  over  into  next  year.  Perhaps  a  release 
awaits  you,  and  happier  days.  Perhaps  you  shall 
have  to  go  on  with  the  same  pain  and  battle.  But 
do  not  take  over  the  accumulated  bitterness  of  the 
past;  face  only  the  burden  of  the  day.  And  if  any- 
one has  taken  his  suffering  selfishly,  and  himself  be- 
come a  cross  to  others,  let  that  at  least  be  finished 
and  not  again  begun.     One  of  the  greatest  things 

that  Jesus  Christ  did  for  men  was  to  finish  things, 

22 


338  THE  END  OF  THE  YEAK 

and  let  the  past  be  past.  He  permits  us  to  be  done 
with  certain  things  for  ever,  and  He  shows  us  how 
to  do  it.  His  cross  has  ^'  finished  transgression  and 
made  an  end  of  sin,"  and  what  He  has  finished  we 
may  leave  behind  us. 

And  yet,  though  we  may  find  some  consolation 
thus  in  the  very  fact  of  ending,  the  feelings  with 
which  we  greet  the  end  are  never  wholly  feelings  of 
relief.  There  is  a  certain  regret  in  our  hearts  as  we 
part  from  even  the  saddest  days.  Part  at  least  of 
the  reason  must  be  that  with  these  days  there  must 
end  so  much  priceless  and  irrecoverable  oppor- 
tunity, so  many  chances  of  courage,  patience,  and 
heroism.  The  end  of  all  such  earthly  chances  is 
coming  soon,  we  know,  to  us  all ;  and  not  a  whole 
eternity  of  blessedness  can  give  us  back  the  lost 
opportunity  of  this  difficult  human  life.  On  the 
boundless  fields  of  God  the  soul  will  wonder  at  its 
want  of  patience.  The  longest,  hardest  life  will 
seem  so  short  a  span,  so  possible  a  situation  to  have 
faced  well.  If  the  man  most  afflicted  in  the  world 
knew  that  he  had  only  one  day  more  of  it,  how 
quickly  that  day  would  pass.  Oh  that  we  might 
catch  the  sense  of  haste  before  the  rushing  swiftness 
of  the  sunset  hour  reveals  it. 

2.  Finished,  in  the  sense  of  completed. — For  we  use 
the  word  in  this  sense  also,  indicating  the  accom- 
plishment or  perfecting  of  work.  There  is  a  differ- 
ence between  finishing  a  thing  and  merely  getting 


THE  END  OF  THE  YEAE  339 

through  with  it ;  and,  as  has  been  finely  said,  this 
is  the  difference  between  the  artist  and  the  artizan. 

The  life  of  Jesus  seems  like  an  incomplete  life. 
We  would  fain  have  had  that  short  space  of  three 
years  extended.  It  seems  in  every  sense  fragmen- 
tary and  broken  off.  Yet  in  this,  as  in  so  much  else, 
further  thought  reverses  the  first  impression.  The 
last  word  of  Jesus  is,  as  Matthew  Henry  says,  ''  A 
comprehensive  word  and  a  comfortable  one  ". 

The  work  of  nature  never  seems  finished  :  it  is 
an  untidy  world.  The  rocks,  the  sea,  the  seasons 
of  the  year — how  rough-edged  they  all  are !  how 
lacking  in  what  man  calls  finish  !  In  the  tumble  of 
nature  all  things  are  groaning  and  travailing  in  pain 
together,  and  nothing  is  ever  exactly  perfected.  Yet 
through  all  this  rough  story  of  evolution,  nature  is 
making  for  some  goal.  Through  lesser  forms  she 
reached  forward  till  at  last  she  found  herself  in 
man.  Man  in  his  turn  is  perfected  in  Jesus  Christ, 
who  Himself  was  made  perfect  through  suffering, 
and  found  completion  on  the  cross. 

History  tells  the  same  story.  The  divine  order 
in  history  is  by  no  means  so  apparent  as  some  light- 
hearted  people  think.  This  is  the  problem  of  all  great 
historians ;  and  some  of  them,  baffled  by  the  con- 
fusing play  of  innumerable  details,  have  denied  that 
progress  is  to  be  seen  in  history.  Yet  the  deepest 
meaning  of  history  is  man's  attempt  to  find  himself 
and   to  find  his  God;  and  these,  sought  in  vain 


340  THE  END  OF  THE  YEAE 

through  unnumbered  generations,  were  found  at 
last  in  the  Cross.  All  that  the  world  had  struggled 
and  waited  for  was  reached  in  that  climax,  in  which 
love  solved  the  problem  of  human  life. 

Thus  on  Calvary,  not  only  was  the  life  of  Jesus 
perfected,  but  the  whole  struggle  of  nature  and  of 
history  found  that  towards  which  it  had  reached 
forward.  It  was  the  triumph  of  weakness  over 
brute  force,  of  truth  over  error,  of  righteousness 
over  sin,  of  love  over  hatred,  of  hope  over  fear,  of 
gladness  over  gloom.  This  was  the  'j^reat  redemp- 
tion, of  which  Christ  had  said  to  his  Father,  "  I  have 
finished  the  work  which  Thou  gavest  Me  to  do,"  and 
the  last  words  from  the  cross  are  a  shout  of  victory 
as  well  as  a  sigh  of  relief. 

For  us,  the  hope  of  completing  our  human  task  is 
vain.  And  yet  there  may  be  more  completeness  in 
it  than  at  this  season  we  dare  to  hope.  If  we  have 
been  honest  and  faithful,  we  have  certainly  been 
building  better  than  we  knew.  God  is  building  His 
house  not  made  with  hands  out  of  what  seem  to 
the  human  builders  broken  fragments,  hopelessly 
incomplete,  but  these  find  completeness  as  parts 
of  His  large  design.  So  let  us  close  our  year  in 
hope.  The  whole  enterprise  of  living  is  a  mystery.  It 
is  our  part  not  to  be  its  architects  but  its  masons  and 
labourers,  whose  eyes  are  upon  the  Master-builder 
in  faith  and  loyalty,  and  whose  hands  are  doing 
with  their  might  the  work  that  is  given  them  to  do. 


Date  Due 


1  1 


012  01004  3901 


!  i 


